Someone to Appreciate Me
by XxFanwritexX
Summary: Human AU! Lukas and Emil have spent all their short lives in Lofoten. But when an event unbeknownst to them occurs, they are forced to live in the same house as a nice middle-aged man, an intimidating Swede, an overly excitable Finn and a loud Dane. A series of events shape their lives as they learn to live, laugh and love again. DenNor, slight Best friend!HongIce and slight SuFin.
1. Chapter 1

"Ber!" Mathias shouted, running down the stairs. His adopted brother poked his head out from behind the kitchen doorway.

"What 's it?" he mused.

"Do ya know when dad's coming home? He's been away an awfully long while." Mathias' dad spent a lot of his time at work, but he always found time for his three sons, Mathias, Berwald and Tino. None of the three boys were related but they felt like a family. His father had adopted both Berwald and Tino in the past two years, and the house felt like it grew warmer the longer they stayed.

Then he heard the cling of keys in the front door. Mathias turned in the sound's direction. His father stood in the doorway, a smile on his face. Mathias had only seen that look twice before – once when Berwald came to live with them, the other when Tino did. What could be the reason this time? The seven year old waited, a grin on his inquisitive, bright face.

"Hello boys," his father said, his tone cheery like the rest of his face. His posture as he came in was relaxed and he didn't look weary like he usually did returning from work.

"I have a surprise for you," the man continued, covering the gap in the ajar door with his body.

"What is it?" Mathias asked. He heard Berwald move next to him. Tino's footsteps reverberated off the walls as the small four year old ran down the stairs to join them, his violet eyes sparkling. The man smirked. He took a step to the side, pulling the door open completely.

Outside, stood two young boys who looked about Tino's age. The one who looked slightly younger with silver hair and violet eyes looked terrified, and hid behind the other boy, with hair of platinum blond and cerulean eyes. His face had a neutral look, but his dark eyes showed just the slightest sign of fear, though it was barely noticeable. They were both quite pretty young boys, Mathias had to admit.

"Mathias, Tino, Berwald," the man spoke calmly, "This is Emil," he gestured to the silver haired toddler, "and Lukas. They'll be living with us from now onwards." Mathias and Tino grinned and a small smile spread on Berwald's lips.

"Hey, I'm Mathias, it's great to meet you both!" Mathias exclaimed, shaking the older boy's hand. The boy (Lukas?), replied with a quiet "hi". Then he felt his father's hand on his shoulder, pulling him gently away. He knelt down so he was eye level with the two boys. Then he started speaking in what Mathias thought was Danish, but he changed his mind about it quickly. The pronunciation was slightly different and the words weren't quite right. He took a step back and whispered to Berwald,

"You understand any of that?" Berwald shook his head.

"'t's not Swedish." Mathias nodded. There was no point in asking Tino. It was definitely not Finnish.

The blond man stood up again, and looked at the three idling in the middle of the corridor.

"Lukas and Emil are Norwegian-Icelandic. They've lived in Lofoten, in Norway all their lives so far. Mathias and Ber, you might be able to talk to them some, Norwegian, and even Icelandic, isn't too far from Swedish and Danish," he looked at Tino apologetically, "I'm afraid Finnish is too far off from both Norwegian and Icelandic."

Tino beamed. "Don't worry," he chimed, "Ber's been teaching me Swedish. And I can always wait anyway."

The man nodded. "Good. I'll be trying to help them with English as much as I can, but you know how my job is sometimes, being in charge of everything," he sighed, discontented, before finishing his speech, "I'll leave them to you three for now." He patted Lukas on the back, making his shoulders stiffen, before making his way up the stairs.

Mathias made eye contact with Berwald and recognised that they both had the same desire to talk to the two new additions to the family. However he knew Berwald well enough to know he wouldn't co-operate so he let his eyes connect to Tino's, who seemed to know exactly what to do. Tino came up behind Emil and Mathias behind Lukas and they pushed the two boys into the living room. Berwald followed them in, his step quick behind the two.

The two boys looked at them in confusion. Mathias grinned pushing Lukas onto the sofa and sitting down next to him. Berwald sat himself down next to Emil. Tino sat on the floor cross-legged, looking up at them.

"_So,"_ Mathias started in Danish. Swedish, Danish and Norwegian had quite a few similarities. Maybe they would somehow be able to break the language border. _"What was Lofoten like?"_

Lukas' eye widened slightly, probably hearing the name of his home district. He thought for a second.

"Det var vakkert," he said after a while. Mathias, who caught two thirds of the sentence, turned to Berwald who sighed and translated.

"'Vakker' prob'ly means beaut'ful."

Mathias grinned. "See? We can more or less work things they say out."

After a little while investigating into as much detail of the two boys' past, Mathias found himself alone in the room with the five year old boy. Lukas watched him, his sapphire pools following Mathias' every move. He smiled to him warmly.

"You'll like it here," he said in English, even though he knew there was a very small chance he would be understood by the Norwegian sitting next to him, "With you and Emil around, it's sure to feel even more like a family." The Norwegian listened to him speak but didn't say anything. After a few moments Mathias carried on. "Now we've more people to fill the emptiness. I wonder if mum would've liked it," he caught his breath and shook his head. In that moment he turned his head in Lukas' direction. "I wonder what your family back in Norway's like. Why you're here. Whatever the case, I'm glad you're here now, out of all the places in the world. " He got up and started walking out. "G'night, Lukas."

The Norwegian watched the Dane walk out of the before getting up himself. He walked over to the oaken shelf by the side of the room, his hand trailing along the spines of the books, his pale hand lingering on a white hard-back. He slid it out carefully, inspecting the yellowed with age pages.

"_Asbj__ørnsen __and Moe__,__" _he turned to see the man who took him, who he believed to be called Érik. He stood watching him. Nodding, he said, _"__Good folklore collection." _The man walked over to him, kneeling so that they were on eye level. _"__Norwegian, I believe."_

"_Father used to read this book to us when we couldn't fall asleep,"_ the boy admitted, looking the man in the eye. He hesitated for a second before asking, _"__Do you really think my brother and I are going to fit in around here?"_

The man nodded. _"__Of course." _He straightened himself up, before saying, _"__Emil is already in bed, fast asleep. I'll take you up to your room. I hope the boys weren't causing you too much havoc."_

Lukas sighed. _"__That one with the stupid hair, Mathias I think, was pretty annoying. But overall it wasn't too troublesome. Don't know if I can put up with it for the rest of my life though." _

Érik laughed. _"__I hear that a lot about my son, would you believe. Come. It's late."_

* * *

_Yeah uh first chapter. It gets better I promise! Any reviews or corrections are welcome, as I don't speak Norwegian (though I aim to!). _


	2. Chapter 2

Over the next few months, every other day after school, Lukas and Emil would sit down at the kitchen table with their foster father and be given some English lessons. The boys picked up the language quickly, with the younger of the two learning it faster. They never seemed to have a break – Mathias and Tino were both curious young boys who wanted to know everything. Berwald was a lot calmer than the other two; he didn't push them anywhere, or to do anything. He was quiet and polite, even if a little intimidating. Lukas liked Berwald; he was the easiest for him to connect with, even if the Swede's accent was hard to understand.

A month passed like a second, a year like an hour. By Lukas' tenth birthday, the strange people that they had been placed with were family, the over-crowded house was home. And as much as Lukas tried to deny it, to himself and to everyone around him, Mathias was the greatest friend anyone could have. He was annoying, that much had to be said, but he was loyal and honest.

"Hey, Lukas?" Speak of the devil, and there he is. The wild-haired, blond Dane stood in his doorway, his hands behind his back.

"What are you holding?" Lukas enquired. From behind his back, Mathias got out a neatly wrapped, red box with a blue ribbon.

"Happy Birthday," Mathias said, grinning. He handed him the box, and Lukas took it slowly. He pushed a few strands of his hair behind his ear before opening the present.

His breath stopped short. Inside the box was a gold cross hair pin.

"Thought you might like it," Mathias shrugged, "Since your fringe is getting rather long. Here," he took the clip out of the box, sliding it into the left side of Lukas' hair. "There, much better."

Lukas touched the clip; it felt cold against his fingertips. He turned towards the mirror that hung on his bedroom wall. He had to admit, the clip suited him quite nicely. The Dane had to be given some credit for choosing it out of anything he could have bought.

"It's nice," he whispered.

"Glad you like it," Mathias chirped.

"Lukas," Érik's deep voice reverberated around Lukas' room. Both boys turned in its general direction. "I have something for you, if you want it."

"What is it?"

The man held up a sealed, white envelope. "From your mum."

Lukas' eyes widened. "From... my mum?" The man nodded, holding the envelope out to him. "Five years and now is when she chooses to contact me?"

Five years. It was too long. He had long lost all hope of Liv Bondevik ever trying to get in touch ever again. She had never been a brilliant mother, but she could have at least given them some sign that she was alive. He sometimes wondered if she even knew she had sons sometimes. He eyed the envelope in his father's hand cautiously, before hesitantly taking it.

"What does it say?"

"It's... nothing special." Nothing special. He silently laughed, re-reading the words marked on the parchment in his mother's elegant hand.

_Dear Lukas,_

_I don't really know why I'm writing this, but I was told to. I don't see why. You and Emil are just out there. In the garden. I can hear your laughter, and your father is looking after you. They're telling me you're not. But I can see you and hear you. You're there._

_I love you._

_Your mum_

Lukas scowled. But he couldn't keep up the expression, which fell easily from his face. His mother had had it bad the past few years, more than he had imagined. He looked again inside the envelope. Another piece of paper was inside it, small and square shaped. He took it out. Barely a second after he saw it, it had been scrunched up into a tight ball, thrown across the room.

"Don't tell my little brother I got a letter from _her_," he said, before he stormed out of the room.

Mathias watched him leave, his ice blue eyes drifting to the corner in which the paper lay, crumpled. His father watched him pick it up and unfold it, straighten out the creases. It was a photo of two boys, who he recognised as Lukas and Emil, a tall, silver haired man, and a woman with long, blond hair, as yellow as gold. Her eyes were a dark amethyst colour, and full of light. All four of them were pale; all four had smiles on their lips, light in their eyes. A smile was something that Mathias had never in the past five years seen cross either of the siblings' lips.

"That's their mum," Érik nodded to the woman in the photo. Mathias looked at him for a few seconds.

"You knew he'd react the way he did. Didn't you?"

Érik nodded. "And there's something more I need to tell him."

Mathias shifted uncomfortably. "And that is?"

"She's been diagnosed with schizophrenia."

He heard a quiet gasp outside the door, the sound of moving clothing. He lowered his eyes to look at the cracks in the wooden floor. "She was taken into asylum yesterday."

Without another word, the man left. Mathias once again looked at the photo. Poor Lukas and Emil.

A large hand slipped the photo out of his own fingers. Berwald placed the photo on the bedside table, the picture facing down.

Mathias clenched his hand in a fist. "If only there was something I could do."

Tino and Berwald looked at him, their eyes full of pity. The youngest of the three took Mathias' hand and squeezed it gently, reassuringly.

"We can't do anything, let's face it, Mathias," he said sadly, "We can only wait to see what happens."

For someone who was only nine, Tino was very smart and mature, something Mathias always failed at being. He sighed and nodded, heading out of the room.

Emil stood outside, his violet eyes glistening. _Oh crap, _Mathias thought, _had he heard all that?_ Both of the siblings were equally hard to read, though Emil was the easier of the two. There was nothing on his round face to suggest he had heard anything; no confusion or sadness or fear in his eyes.

"Mathias?" Emil asked quietly, "Why was big brother so upset?" Mathias gasped quietly, trying to think of an excuse.

"Don't you worry 'bout it," he chuckled, his voice wavering slightly, "Everything's fine. He's just got up on the wrong side of the bed." Emil obviously didn't believe him but he ceased asking any more.

In the five years they had been together, neither of the two had ever spoken about their past, save a few general comments about Lofoten. The whole business with their mum had Mathias greatly confused. Obviously, she wasn't the best mother, otherwise they wouldn't have ended up with his family in the first place. But she couldn't have been that bad. Could she? Selfishly, he was glad she was unable to look after them. He felt guilty feeling that, but he did. Without her being that way, he would have never met Lukas and Emil, something he couldn't imagine nowadays, now that they were as close as brothers.

He heard sobbing coming through the kitchen window. The house had a fairly large garden, with a few towering trees with dark green leaves. However the trees were so close together it felt like a wood. A small forest where there was only you and the trees. Lukas loved that place. He went there a lot, when he wanted to be alone.

Quietly, he tip-toed outside, following the sound. The boy was sat underneath a tree, looking up through the tree crown at the sky. He was singing quietly in Norwegian to himself . He looked so melancholic sitting there, desolate eyes focused on the sky.

Mathias stood there, listening to the boy's voice. When the song came to an end, he started to clap slowly. Lukas turned in his direction, eyes slightly panicked, before he realised who it was.

"What song was that?" the Dane asked, setting himself down next to the Norwegian who stayed silent for another few moment. Mathias thought he wouldn't get a reply when he was proven wrong.

"'Nocturne' by Secret Garden."

Mathias smiled. "It was beautiful." Lukas looked at him sceptically. "I mean it! You're a good singer."

"My little brother's the good singer in the family," Lukas shook his head, "I'm just good with music."

"Ever played an instrument?"

Lukas stiffened for a second, before nodding. "Yes." He looked at his feet, before adding, "It's in my wardrobe right now." Mathias wondered aloud what the instrument was. "A violin."

A violin. The Norwegian had managed to hide a violin from them for five years. He wondered whether his dad knew about the secret instrument hidden in the house.

"Can you play something for me?" Lukas waited for about five seconds before getting up to leave. "Is that a yes or a no?" Mathias stumbled up onto his feet and chased after him. The spring breeze tickled his skin, biting his cheeks as he caught up to him. The Norwegian's expression was as stoic as ever when he turned around to see the persistent Dane was following, and would follow him to his grave.

* * *

_Another chapter. Woo. Btw fem!Norway is Lukas and Emil's mum and just a man who looks like an older version of Ice is their dad I guess. Any reviews, comments and corrections appreciated. ~_


	3. Chapter 3

The corridor stretched out in front of him, the door to his room seeming to not get any closer than when he had started. The boy behind him kept calling his name, telling him to slow down. But he couldn't. What he had just revealed was the only part of home he had left; the only part he wanted to keep. He was, to say the least, reluctant to share it. But to the other blond the secret hidden in his room seemed to spill from his lips like water.

His arm struck out, yanking the doorknob. He slammed the door shut and turned the key; a temporary barricade from the still fairly unfamiliar world of alien faces. A few of them were like family, yes. But other than those few, he had no one. No one to call his friend. There was a Romanian boy in his class who was all right and shared his passion for mystical beings, but he was the only person who Lukas connected with outside the house. Not that he minded. As long as his brother had friends, he didn't care about himself.

Slowing his breath, he let his heartbeat even out. He didn't even remember running, just that he had to escape. He approached his wardrobe, letting his hand wander across the smooth, cold wood. Twisting his wrist, he opened the door. He took care to move the embroidered cloths out of the way, breaching the veil between reality and his mind. The polished oak of the instrument gleamed in the rays of light that came in through the open window. Carefully, he picked it up, one hand on the neck and one on the lower bout. The wood felt cool under his long fingers. He stroked the beautiful engravings decorating the sides of the elegant instrument, stopping only when he heard a loud thud on the door.

The clamor outside was off-putting to say the least, however this was his haven, an asylum from all worried. He let his body sink into the bed's mattress, the springs letting out a slight groan. But from the moment the bow met the strings, the whole world silenced. No sound other than that of the violin, singing its song sweetly for all to hear.

The music was like a dream, but all dreams end. Planting a soft kiss on the wood, he returned it to its sanctuary, ready to be played again. He laid down on his bed, closing his eyes. While most people would expect he wouldn't understand what was happening, he really needed to be given the benefit of the doubt. He didn't understand everything about his mother's condition. However, he knew more than he was given credit for. He knew she was delusional; he had noticed things all those years ago. Symptoms that had occurred only after a certain event. He had always spent more time with their mother than Emil had. He had loved her so much. Then, it happened.

His father was a fisherman. He used to go out in his fishing boat, and often came back with fresh fish that his mum would prepare differently every time. It was the taste of his childhood. But one day, he didn't come home. The boat had been caught in a massive storm. The ship sank, there were no survivors. He hadn't known what had happened until two years ago, when Érik told him. He was slowly beginning to understand everything, piecing things together. With only two children in the home, there was no one to tell that anything was wrong. She began to lose herself, bit by bit. She still laid the table out for his father every night. She stopped smiling, her voice becoming monotonous. She barely spoke at all, and, though he hadn't noticed at the time, couldn't use information very well. The ordered, joyful woman she had been begun to slowly become someone who she had never been.

He rolled onto his side. He just hoped it would all be over and out of his mind soon.

* * *

_Just a little chapter about Lukas' feelings and back story. This story will get back to plot next chapter. _


	4. Chapter 4

Mathias sat outside the door, his eyes on the chandelier hanging above him. Where did Lukas learn to play like that? And where did he even get the instrument? Did his father know about the secret violin? There were lots of questions inside the boy's head but he tried to put them to rest as well as he could. Lukas was keeping secrets, sure. But he had his reasons. Probably.

Right then the door opened, hitting the Dane hard on his back. He let out a yelp of surprise, shooting up onto his feet. Lukas' dull blue eyes were watching him, an eyebrow raised questioningly.

"Bror, what are you doing?" he crossed his arms, trying to look intimidating, before realizing what he had called him. Mathias cocked his head to the side, a lop-sided grin filling his face.

"Did you just call me "brother"?" he laughed slightly. By now Lukas' face glowed a light scarlet. He pouted.

"No, it never happened."

Mathias' cheerful laugh reverberated off the corridor walls. "I liked it, you should do that more often." When Lukas didn't reply, he added, "You don't have to if you don't want to ya know. I just said I liked it, don't take it so seriously."

Lukas shrugged, waiting for Mathias to change the subject. The older blond rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Your violin performance was good," he smiled, "Where'd you learn to play like that?"

Lukas looked taken aback for a moment. He pursed his lips, immersed in thought, contemplating whether to share or not. At last he replied, his words slow.

"Mostly, I taught myself," he shrugged like it was nothing. Mathias' eyes widened in wonder. What he had heard barely moments ago what brilliant playing. How did a ten year old manage to teach himself all that?

"'Mostly'. What about the rest of it?" he pressed the question. The Norwegian sighed, sliding a lock of hair behind his ear.

Why was Mathias so interested in this? Well, 5 years in and the younger boy had grown on him immensely. He could be harsh, but he was a brother to him. However, he tended to be very distant from everyone, and quiet, keeping everything to himself. Even Emil couldn't get everything out of him. Lukas would do literally anything for his younger brother; saying he loved him a lot was an understatement.

"It's not any of your business." Mathias had expected that answer. He bit the side of his bottom lip, before looking the boy in the eyes, getting lost in their depths. What lengths he wouldn't go to to feed his burning curiosity. But what could he do? Five years of experience have led him to know that even if he did a mountain's worth of good deeds for him, Lukas wouldn't say a thing. After all, he hadn't spoken about his life in Lofoten much. Mathias had heard nothing about either of the boy's parents. Most of what he knew was from what his own father had told him when he asked, which was little as Érik knew that Lukas' past deserved privacy.

But it was alright. He was curious, but, contrary to popular belief, he could control himself. To a certain extent. Some of the time. Darn, the questions were eating him up from the inside. He figured it would only be a matter of time before his whole being would explode from overwhelming curiosity.

And yet a year passed. Followed by another. And another. Neither Nordic was giving in to the long running contest for answers. Yet, by now it had become the norm. So much so that both of them could tell what the other was thinking and what they were going to do next. Mathias found himself sitting outside the other boy's door everyday, secretly listening to him playing his instrument, and in turn the younger boy found himself watching the other blond go about his business. Those moments were like short-term, temporary truces from their game that could go on forever. Both of them knew that, but neither was weak enough to let it go.

Mathias knew that if he kept being persistent, the boy would give in sometime. But something that he was beginning to notice started worrying him. At first he ignored it, thinking it was just something that came with growing up in Lukas' family. Both he and Emil smiled fairly rarely, so he assumed it was in his genes. The older sibling showed it so much stronger though – he spoke monotonously and spoke less and less. God only knew what was happening. Yet a single event made everything take a turn for the worse.

* * *

_**And then there were 4. God I look forward to writing the next chapter, more than I probably should be. A lot more than I probably should be. It will probably turn out twice the length of this one. Go figure. **_


	5. Chapter 5

It was just another day at first. Normal lessons, normal lunchtime spent sitting with his Romanian friend Vlad, checking across the room to discreetly text their friend Arthur who had already graduated. There was nothing to suggest anything was going to be out of the ordinary. And yet Lukas felt a slight sense of dread as he sipped his coffee quietly.

"What are you thinking about?" Vlad asked his friend who had been staring into the cup of warm, brown beverage. The blond slowly looked over at him before placing the polystyrene cup on the round canteen table.

"I feel as if something will happen," he said matter of factly. He shrugged, tracing the circumference of the cup with his index finger. Vlad took a bite of his sandwich before speaking again.

"It's probably nothing," he reassured.

"Maybe."

As the Romanian teen began a long winded story that Lukas half listened to about Vlad and his adopted family's day out at the weekend, he decided to scan the canteen. In the corner he saw Berwald, Tino and Mathias, the two latter bright and cheerful as usual chattering endlessly, and Berwald sitting quietly watching Tino with obvious adoration. There wasn't a single sign of Emil though. Frowning, he scanned the room again. Nothing. No sign of the platinum haired boy.

He sighed taking another sip of coffee. He worried for his sibling who didn't talk to him as much as before. He didn't even know if Ice, as they had nicknamed him a while back, even had any friends at school. He rarely saw him during school hours, and even at home he often locked himself in his room, not letting anyone in. Not that Lukas was really one to talk. He did the exact same. Mathias always joked about how obvious it was that the two of them were brothers.

The bell went off, making him jump slightly. He looked at his watch, realising that lunch was over. Vlad jumped up out of his seat, rushing to pack everything away. He beckoned Lukas to hurry up. The Norwegian finished his coffee, tossing out the cup and slung his messenger bag onto his shoulder and followed his friend back to class.

Even at the bus stop Lukas still saw no sign of Emil, and on top of that he had to deal with the Dane babbling loudly next to him.

"You never sit with us anymore, Nor," the wild-haired blond complained. He poked the boy's cheek, earning a glare. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Slightly."

The sixth former crossed his arms and pouted. Lukas rolled his eyes, a light smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. The older boy could be annoying, but try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to getting angry at him for longer than a split-second. The idiot had a mind that ran on a single track. But it was a good track. He cared for them, his family, more than anything. He was, even though he would never admit it aloud, quite good-looking and had a charisma that Lukas had to train himself to ignore.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, interrupting his thoughts. He flipped it open to fins a message from Emil, saying he would be home by dinner. He bit the inside of his cheek, rereading the message. No explanation, just a plain fact. Any attempt to get something out of him would fail, he knew how stubborn his brother could be. If he had asked him to clean his room, his room wouldn't have been cleaned for another lifetime just to defy him, maybe even into the next. It was quite adorable.

He sighed, slipping the phone back into his pocket. He explained the situation to the rest of his brothers as the bus pulled up.

Throughout the whole bus journey he tried to sort his thoughts out, something he was beginning to find increasingly difficult even without the Dane being his loud, cheerful, perfect self. Scratch the perfect, the dork was far from it. Yet, even when people, namely Lukas himself, were being rather mean, he still kept up his optimistic facade. The Norwegian respected him for that, more than he would ever let slip.

From an outsider's perspective, the five of them must have looked like a group of high-maintenance teenage boys who enjoyed bickering between themselves. But they were more than best friends; they were family, tied together by bonds people could never break. Dan, Sve, Fin, Ice and Nor.

He remembered the day in which they all got those nicknames. It was a few years back, when Tino and Emil first started World High. Celebrating had ended up as a tradition that the whole household upheld – Berwald and Mathias got their celebration, then Lukas, and now Tino and Emil.

It was a Thursday but Érik had allowed them to stay up late (withing reason). They had sat down on the floor in Tino's room, if Lukas remembered correctly, with cake, fizzy drinks and popcorn. Suddenly, completely out of the blue, Mathias suggested the idea of pet names.

"Our normal names are boring," he had said, "Let's think of something different and original, that only we've thought of."

"Like what?" Tino chirped in, completely excited about the idea. Mathias scratched his chin, hoping it would make him look more thoughtful, when in reality it just made the big idiot look a tad stupid.

"We're all Nordics, right?" he leaned forward, grinning, "There are five Nordic countries, and there are five of us. The Nordic 5." The name had a ring to it, Lukas had to admit. Mathias went on to point out how all of them came from a different Nordic country as well, making the idea fit like a glove. He pointed to Berwald and Tino in turn, calling them Sve and Fin.

"What about us though, Dan?" Mathias turned his head towards Emil who had queried his plan. "Lukas and I have dual nationality, so how will we decide which of us is which?"

After a second of thought, Dan replied with a grin.

"You'll be Ice, because you're the younger of you two, just like the country. That and your unnaturally white hair fits the bill. So you're," he turned to Lukas, his eyes filled with a captivating brightness, more full of life than ever before, "Nor."

"Hey guys! Nor is smiling!" Lukas had been snapped out of his daydream by a loud, Danish voice. He composed himself, realising there had been a light smile on his lips. He refused to let his stoic portrayal slip.

"I did no such thing."

"Did too. ~"

"Dan."

Fin giggled at the two of them, who were now pushing each other – well, the Dane was going for a hug, Lukas was pushing him away – the Finn's violet eyes enlivened.

"What were you thinking about, Nor?"

The Norwegian finally managed to push the older boy away, and straightened out his school blazer. He tucked a lock of blond hair behind his ear before slowly reminding the other three of the memory.

"That feels like so long ago," Tino mused, to which Berwald and Mathias nodded. It had been almost three years after all.

"Our stop," Lukas stated, moving towards the gangway. They thanked the bus driver, before making their way home. It was a nice, short walk that Lukas always looked forward to. While Mathias and Tino ran ahead, releasing all their excess energy which they seemed to have an unlimited amount of, he and Berwald stayed in a tranquil silence. From the back he had a clear view of the two energetic boys. Berwald was also often consumed in watching the two race home. Usually.

"D' you like him?" The tall Swede placed the question on the table so suddenly that Lukas was caught completely off guard.

"Pardon?"

"Mathias." The Norwegian's face portrayed an image of light shock. He bit the inside of his cheek.

"No, where did you get that idea."

"Th' way you look at him." When Lukas questioned what that meant, he added, "Yer eyes have a shine to them, 'nd there's a smile on yer lips."

"Not true," he looked up at him, Berwald's eyes were focused on the two figures ahead, his eyes light. His whole posture was completely relaxed. He was only that way around one person.

"I could say the same thing about you and Tino."

The Swede nodded. "You could." He outright admitted it. In a way, Lukas envied his confidence on the subject. He knew exactly what he felt; Lukas didn't. He had mixed feelings about his best friend. Did he really find him annoying, or was he just lying to himself?

"Hey Nor!" He looked over in the direction of the voice and saw the Dane waving enthusiastically at him. "Come on!"

Lukas rolled his eyes, but the corners of his lips were faintly raised. He and Berwald approached the house at a gentle pace, to the place where the two Nordics stood. The door was slightly ajar, and the four could hear a scuttling from down the corridor, followed by loud yapping.

"Hana!" Tino kneeled down and let the dog run into his arms. The Finn laughed as the little pup licked his face. "I missed you too, girl." He petted the puppy's head before setting her back inside the house. The little Maltese pup ran down the corridor into the kitchen, followed by the four teenagers. Mathias dumped his bag on the floor next to the heater and reclined on the sofa in the living room. He made eye contact with Lukas through the open doorway. The Norwegian raised his eye brow.

"What?"

After a moment of silent debate with himself, he answered, "Nothing." He began to make his way up the narrow stairs to his room, when Mathias' words made him stop in his tracks.

"Play something for me." The boy turned around, features twisted in confusion. "Please."

"I have coursework."

"Please, Nor," the Dane pleaded, getting up off the couch. He followed him, and Lukas knew that even when he closed the door on him, he didn't leave. Just sat in silence outside his door.

Stressing out completely, he felt like it was impossible to concentrate on the strings of letters on the paper in front of him. With a sigh, he got up from his desk, and slumped down on the floor, his back against the door.

"Why are you so persistent about finding out about the violin?" he asked the air, knowing the wild-haired blond would hear him from the other side.

"We live together," he heard the Dane's voice, muffled by the wood of the door, "You're my brother and my best friend, but I barely know anything about your past. About before I met you."

"Does it really matter?"

A minute seemed to pass before he replied. "I guess not." They sat back to back with only the door between them for what felt like an eternity, before Dan asked a question he hadn't expected. "Do you trust me?"

He shuffled around, opening the door just enough to make contact with eyes that he swore were the sky. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I'd trust you with my life, but I sometimes wonder whether you'd do the same." He thought about that for a brief moment, before getting up to open the door completely. The boy looked up at him from the floor, gaze curious.

"Get up, bror." Retrieving his valued instrument, he sat down on his pristine bed. Mathias sat down next to him, eyes focused on Lukas' face rather than on the violin.

"It was a present," Lukas began uncertainly. He hadn't spoken about his past family much for so many years, that all his words clenched up in his throat. "From my dad."

"Your dad?"

Lukas nodded. He spoke of how the four of them had lived a modest life in Lofoten; his father a fisherman, mother a shopkeeper. His father visited Iceland a lot. One time, he brought back the beautiful instrument home with him for Lukas' third birthday. His mother wasn't pleased that he had bought him it instead of something that a child usually enjoyed, like toys, but he had a natural flair for the instrument even at such a young age, though it was too big and heavy at the time. His mother, who had played the instument herself in her childhood, taught him all she knew. He played at special ocassions, like birthdays and Christmas, and his dad always praised him with a bright smile that made wrinkles appear at the corners of his eyes. Those moments the nicest of his memories from before dad died.

Mathias listened carefully, silently. When Lukas had finished, he placed a large hand on the polished wood of the violin.

"So that's what it means to you."

"It's all the good I have left to remember dad with."

They sat in silence, thinking to themselves.

"You have us now." He looked at Mathias who was grinning his stereotypical grin. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around the Norwegian's body in a tight, warm, slightly suffocating embrace. Lukas tried to struggle free without damaging the instrument on his lap, one hand on the Dane's face, trying to push him away, but failing.

Snatching the violin, Mathias placed it safely on the ground, before locking his hands around Lukas' wrists, pinning him to the bed. The younger boy wore an expression of obvious annoyance, which became mixed with slight anxiety as he noticed the Dane's mischievous smirk.

He tried to control it but he couldn't. It was too much. Mathias knew exactly where to tickle him to make him burst into an out of character fit of laughter that brought tears to his eyes.

"See, now we're happy," the Dane laughed, continuing to tickle the younger male.

"I swear I'm going to kill you," Lukas chocked through laughter. When Mathias finally ceased to tickle him, his chest heaved from weariness. If he wasn't so tired he would have kicked the Dane into the ground. Or, that's what he told himself was the reason why he hadn't protested about the man's position on top of him, eyes connected, with less than a metre between their faces.

"I'll give you a 10 second head start before I murder you," he breathed heavily, his eyes wandering across the other's face.

"Sorry to interrupt," both their heads snapped in the direction of the doorway in which stood a shaken Tino, his face flushed. Realising what the situation must have looked like, Lukas pushed the other boy off, his cheeks feeling warm.

"What is it, Fin?" he asked walking over to the younger boy. Mathias joined him, his face a painting of worry.

Tino looked Lukas straight into his eyes, and they sole sight of them without the message made his heart crack with worry.

"It's Ice."

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_Second time uploading, hopefully this time the chapter will not do the same thing as last time. Please rate, it means a lot._


	6. Chapter 6

Lukas felt his heart drop in his chest.

"What happened Fin?" the Dane asked, his whole aura one of worry. The Finn gulped before giving his reply, violet eyes shooting from one of his brothers' face to to the other.

"There was an accident," he started, shifting nervously, "at the junction. I just received a call from dad, he called you both but both of you didn't answer and Sve's phone was on silent and you needed to know," he rambled, not getting to the point, his speech becoming faster the longer the gears in his head turned. Lukas put his hands, which he noticed had an unusual shake in them, on the other's shoulders, making him stiffen mid-sentence. In his eyes tears swelled up, threatening to fall.

"What happened at the junction?" he asked slowly, quietly. The Finn swallowed, his whole body shaking uncontrollably.

"There was a crash," he stuttered, "A driver lost control of his car, which spun out of control, onto the pavement and hit a pedestrian," the first of the tears cascaded down the Finn's cheeks; Mathias tensed beside him. He himself was panicking on the inside, though he knew the dread reached his features. "It hit him. It hit Emil."

The youngest blond's face scrunched up in pain as Lukas' fingers dug into the skin on his shoulders, trying to steady himself. Mathias reached out to touch the weeping Norwegian's arm, trying to remain optimistic, reassuring, however the attempt was shrugged off in a violent gesture.

"Is he...?" he let the question hang, unable to complete it. Frightened, the Finn shook his head, making Lukas look up to meet his eyes.

"He's in hospital," Tino sobbed, "He's alive." Lukas loosened his grip slightly, relieved, but the heavy atmosphere still hung in the air like smoke as he awaited the catch. "But... He's seriously injured and," the Finn choked, burying his face in Lukas' chest. Anxiety overtook the Norwegian, his body stiffened further.

"What is it, Fin?"

The Finn's words were muffled by the fabric of Lukas' shirt, but both of them heard them nonetheless.

"He's in a coma."

Lukas' whole body felt like it had turned to stone, the slightest movement a struggle for a long moment that felt like it lasted a lifetime. The whole atmosphere in the room was thick, suffocating; the only sound was their own breathing and the chocked sobs of the Finn who still clung onto the front of his brother's shirt. He felt his pulse throb in his temple.

"Take me to him," he whispered, making his two friends look at him, "I need to see him. Now!"

He felt the tugging on his shirt cease as the youngest in the room pulled away, trails clearly marking the routes left by tears. The Dane's face was firm, brows pulled into a frown, an avalanche of emotions unleashed in his eyes. His own face was hidden beneath the long fringe of blond, though beneath an ugly scowl was plastered on his features, eyes closed tightly as the pain in his temples grew worse.

"I'll drive," the oldest stated, brushing past the other two boys to fetch his keys. Tino followed after him as he left the room, leaving a short, worried glance for Lukas before disappearing behind the corner. The Norwegian steadied his breathing, before grabbing the nearest jacket and slid past the doorway, heading straight for the red car parked in the drive way. Mathias sat behind in the driver's seat, fingers tapping nervously on the wheel. He sat beside him in the passenger seat, slamming the car door and crossing his arms in front of his chest. Mathias smiled gently at him before his face fell again, azure eyes focusing on the gears.

The four of them drove in an uncomfortable, heavy silence. Lukas could see Fin clutching onto Berwald's coat desperately in the rear view mirror, his whole body tense with concern, the taller boy's arm wrapped around his body tightly. He bit the inside of his cheek, pressing his back closer to the seat, long fingers gripping at the fabric of his coat. He sighed, staring out of the window, watching the cars drive past and the buildings go by. He could feel Mathias' eyes move to him every once in a while, checking on him silently. They didn't need to say anything.

The parking lot outside the hospital was empty, save for a few random cars dotted about. Lukas opened the door the moment the engine stopped, not bothering to close it. He ran to the doors, pushing them open with both hands. Érik waited on one of the seats, standing up promptly when he saw him. After a moment of Lukas tapping his foot impatiently, the other boys followed them in, and the man led them through bleak corridors, taking a few turns into the children's ward decorated with smiling cartoon characters that Lukas did not care about.

Érik stopped him with a large hand on his chest, stopping him in front of one of the doors to a ward, eyes connecting to the younger male's. The gaze was firm, speaking without actually saying anything. Everyone could sense how tense the Norwegian was at that moment, and that eye-contact was a necessity in calming him down, even if he didn't show his panic on the outside.

The man opened the door, allowing Lukas to walk in, his step slow. He caught his breath. There in the bed closest to the window lay his sibling, unmoving, a tube connected to his nose, helping him breathe. At that moment, Lukas felt like he needed something to help him breathe as well. He couldn't make his muscles move, he just stood like a statue, transfixed on the image of the fair boy lying there, vulnerable. The heart beat monitor beeped beside him, the only sound in the deafening silence.

Lukas licked his lips and swallowed, finding the strength to move himself to sit beside his younger brother, entwining their hands and giving Emil's hand a light squeeze. He looked so peaceful. He wondered if his brother knew he was there right then, if he could feel his warmth on his own cold, pale hands. He had heard stories about patients who heard and knew what was going on around them while they were in the state of coma. Would Emil be able to hear him?

"Hey," he spoke softly, not letting go of the hand between his own, or letting his gaze slip from Emil's face, from his thin lips, from his long, silver eyelashes. He heard motion behind him and the sound of a closing door but he didn't look back.

He bit his lip. "I can't believe this happened," he admitted, shaking his head, letting his fringe fall over his eye. "I should have been there for you. If I had known..."

He stayed there talking to him a long time, reminiscing about the past, the good times, the bad times, and everything in between. He didn't even realise there was someone silently listening to him talk from the doorway, hanging onto his every word, lips sealed in a tight line, brows furrowed. He watched the younger boy open up, letting down his walls when he thought no one was watching. Because behind it all, he was just a scared fifteen year old who didn't know how to show how he felt. Mathias smiled sadly, looking at the ground. For now at least, maybe leaving the two to themselves would be the best thing to do.

Seconds felt like minutes, minutes like hours, hours like days. Lukas had lost track of how much time he'd spent there, sitting by his brother's bedside, interlinking their slim fingers they had inherited from their mother, changing the water in the flowers on the little table, and speaking softly, not sure who to, or if anyone apart from the air was even listening. He was in a daze, holding onto the hope that his brother was only sleeping, that he could wake up any moment and look at him with his eyes glinting like amethysts.

After a while, it had become a part of his routine; leaving the others behind, walking at a steady pace with a fresh bouquet of mountain avens he had bought from the local florist, a French man who knew Arthur by the name of Francis, who always served him with a sympathetic smile. He didn't want anyone's pity; he just wanted his sibling to be returned to him. And the chances of that happening decreased with every passing day.

So he sat there, rubbing circles into the back of the boy's hand, pricks of conscience stabbing at his heart, becoming more and more painful each day. There was one nurse who he had come to know, a Ukrainian woman with short-cut blond hair that cupped her chin, who brought him coffee and a biscuit everyday, giving him a warm smile that he needed; a warm smile he had hoped to receive from someone else.

He hadn't seen Mathias around in a while – not properly. He saw him traversing the school corridors, and around the house. And yet, after all this time, he couldn't meet his eyes. They regarded each other with nods as they passed by, unable to say anything. He couldn't let him see him cry, not now and not ever. And yet for some reason he couldn't explain, all he wanted to do was feel his arms around him, the comforting way they always were, even when he pushed them away; to feel the warmth of his breath on his neck, steady, calm; to cry into his shoulder and feel the gentle caress of his fingers against his hair. He wanted comfort, but he had decided a long time ago he didn't need it.

He let out a long sigh, brushing hair away from Emil's face. He looked so peaceful, the scene would have almost been serene if it wasn't where it was. He leaned forward, planting a soft kiss on his brother's forehead.

"I have to go now," he whispered, giving his hand a light squeeze. He got up, not letting go, his breath short. "Happy birthday," he breathed.

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_Sorry for the wait 3 I hope it was worth it ~ Please leave a review I love reading what you guys have to say! And hopefully the next update will be up much much shorter!_


	7. Chapter 7

Lukas tapped the pen on the paper in agitation. It had been months since the accident, and yet Emil showed no signs of waking up. With his exams having finished, he had no way to occupy him through the day, other than to write. He decided to keep a journal, recording his thoughts, yet for some reason he was becoming so distracted lately that even that became a struggle in itself. He put down the pen, running his hands down his face, elbows propped up on the desk surface.

His eyes drifted to the wardrobe. He hadn't touched the violin since the day Emil was comatosed, not having the energy to. And strangely, Mathias didn't have the energy to bother him all that much either. He furrowed his brows. How had he missed that the boy was giving him an unnatural amount of space for himself.

He got up, helping himself up with the chair back. The desolation inside the house felt foreign; it was like he was in a new house, just having moved in, the shadows on the walls threatening, the July sun hidden by the clouds. He moved towards the window, pushing it open. The fresh, sweet midsummer air was a welcome change from the stuffiness of his bedroom. He sighed to himself; although he didn't want to, in fact, wanted everything far from it, he was low on hope. What chances did Emil possibly have? _There are some coma patients who never wake up,_ he thought before shaking the thoughts away. No, he couldn't let himself think like that.

He felt a tap on his shoulder, his head turning in surprise. Arms crossed in front of his chest, Mathias looked torn. He seemed to be idling in the corridor, unsure of himself and what to say, and that in itself hurt. They hadn't spoken in months, not properly, unable to form coherent sentences around each other; unable to say anything to offer comfort to each other. Lukas grimaced, turning away again.

"Go away-"

He felt a pair of strong, muscular arms wrap themselves around his torso, pulling him back. He felt the other's chest pressed against his back, rising and falling in short breaths, his large hands clinging to the front of Lukas' t-shirt. Lukas felt his breath hitch in his throat, his muscles tensing from the contact. He stared at the taller man's reflection in the window, and he stared back at him, eyes half-closed, framed by long lashes. Even in the gloom that was outside, his hair still looked like it was made of gold, eyes, although dulled, still shone in what light entered into the room.

Lukas felt his own shoulders slump, looking down at his bare feet. He couldn't meet his eyes for any longer; there was only so much he could take of the despaired, pleading look in them. He didn't trust himself enough to. He loosened Mathias' grip on him, turning around to face him, however kept his eyes on the ground. He felt his eyes scanning his face. Without a thought, he fell against him, letting out a small sigh. Mathias' long fingers massages circles into the Norwegian's back, and he closed his eyes, not realising that a single crystal fell down his face, soaking the other's top. He felt defenceless, like the last barrier that had kept him safe had broken down, his feelings spilling out as more quiet tears speckled the Dane's top, Lukas' hands clinging onto his back.

Dan pulled him off of him, slowly, without any sudden movements as if Lukas was a small animal who Mathias didn't want to scare away. He pushed his chin up with his finger, making him look up at him, into those azure eyes he could get so lost in.

They stood like that, just the two of them for a while, neither dropping their gaze. It was as if time had stopped. Mathias opened his mouth as if to say something before closing it, changing his mind. Lukas furrowed his brows at this. Suddenly, he became very aware of the closeness between their bodies, touching, so close he felt the warmth radiate from the other's body. He flinched away, feeling a light blush colour his face.

Blinking three times in confusion, Mathias dropped his hand, cocking his head to the side like a disorientated pup. His hand seemed to hesitate mid-drop, as though he had wanted to reach out rather than to resign. It traveled to his hip, his free hand running through his hair in that manner of his when he was nervous. Lukas' discomposed expression lingered on his features, astounded by why Mathias should be nervous around him. Or how he even knew that he was.

Mathias walked up to him, this time standing beside him, leaning back on the windowsill. His eyes were on the other who refused to meet his gaze. He said nothing for another while, just standing like that, shoulders almost touching.

"How are you hanging on?" He finally asked, earning a glance out of the corner of Lukas' peripheral vision. No one had asked him how he was. It wasn't about him. And yet Mathias had.

"I'm... okay."

"That means you're not." Lukas sent him a glare. "What? You know you can't lie to me Nor."

Letting out a shaky breath, Lukas let himself lean back against the windowsill as well, shaking his head slowly. "Why do you care?" He asked quietly, almost inaudibly. "My little brother is the one hospitalised, not me."

"It doesn't mean you can't be hurt you know," Mathias tapped his fingers against the edge of the windowsill, almost in a disheartened manner. "I _care _about you Lukas, believe it or not."

Lukas leered, biting the inside of his cheek. "It's been _months_, Mathias. Months since we spoke. And when have you ever been there for me?" A wave of guilt passed over the other's face, making Lukas feel in the wrong, but he said nothing more. He had made the other lose any glee in his features; something he had not wanted to do. He opened his mouth to apologise but was beaten to it.

"I.. I'm sorry, Nor," his eyes were a deep cerulean, staring at his feet in discomfort. It was agonising to see. "I should have been there for you. I am so _so _sorry." He slid down onto the floor, his back against the wall, arms cradling his bent legs. A surge of panic hit the Norwegian like a shell, stiffening his whole body. His chest ached, and, after a hesitant moment, he slid down onto the floor beside him, cautious, attentive. Mathias' eyes were glazed over, like the tears would fall any minute.

Lukas touched his shoulder, making him look at him. A sad smile coloured his lips. It was such a beautiful and yet such a downcast expression; it was moving for a reason Lukas couldn't place. Mathias' hand traveled to meet his, his fingers circling it, giving it a reassuring squeeze, as if to say "I'm fine". He let go, thinking for a moment, before opening his arms. Lukas rolled his eyes but let himself fall into his embrace again. Only this once, he thought to himself.

They sat like that for a long while, just the two of them, no more words, just a comfortable silence save their breathing. Then, something broke the silence. A loud sound, like ringing, came from down the corridor, making both of them look in that direction.

"Changed your ringtone?" Mathias asked, to which Lukas shook his head. He untangled himself from Mathias' arms, getting up to see where the sound was coming from, Mathias ambling behind him.

It came from the drawer of his desk. He slid the compartment open, staying still for a moment. The silver phone of his brother lay at the bottom, vibrating, the screen displaying that someone was calling. Someone called "Leon". He tilted his head, reaching out for the phone, flipping it open.

"Hello?" He felt the Dane leaning in the door frame, watching his back.

"Hi, uh, I just wanted to ask how Emil is?" The voice was that of a teenage boy, with a slight accent that Lukas couldn't distinguish. He shifted his weight to the other side of his body.

"He's not here right now. Who is this?"

A silence, with the sound of voices coming from the other side, before a reply. "I'm Leon. His best friend." This was news to him.

"Why are you calling only now?" Lukas pulled out his chair, settling himself on it, feeling Mathias sitting on his bed, leaning in to listen. His warm breath on the back of his neck made him shiver. "It's been a couple of months."

"Fear." Lukas blinked, looking over at Mathias, finding him looking back. "It was fear."

"Fear?" He struggled to break eye-contact with Mathias, but found himself unable to.

"Yeah... I was scared. Scared in case I found out he got worse, or that I found out he'd never get better. Can you understand that?"

Lukas handed the phone to Mathias, unable to keep the conversation going anymore. He his his face in his hands as Mathias apologised to the boy on the phone, hanging up. He felt a hand stroking his hair, gently, softly, like he was a china doll, fragile, breakable. In a way he supposed he was. He broke away.

"I'm going to see Emil," was all he said, not looking back, stopped by Mathias' warm hand around his wrist.

"I'm coming with you this time," he announced, not loosening his grip. "It's been long enough. Okay?"

"Okay..."

_This could be for the best_, Lukas told himself silently. However his mind was filled with more worry than he'd felt before, the boy's words floating around in his head. _It was fear._

* * *

_So I did it. I wrote it. It took me a while but I did. I hope you guys like it I promise to be a good noodle and write more soon c': _

_Please review and tell me what you thought I love reading all of your comments!_


	8. Chapter 8

They decided to walk. Having left a feverishly written note on the kitchen counter about their whereabouts, they set off. The walked with their arms almost touching, Mathias noted, and it felt comfortable; comfortably normal. He was thinking about this when the Norwegian tugged at his sleeve, motioning with his head to a building. The plaque outside said "Fleuriste", and from what the Dane could make out it was French. He couldn't speak French.

The moment he passed through the entrance, a wave of scents so overpowering hit him that he sneezed. The little building was a quaint flower shop, flowers, some that he could name like tulips and roses, and some completely foreign to him, lining the sides of the small room. A counter stood at the back, a man with long, blonde hair tied into a small pony tail with a blue, white and red ribbon, bright blue eyes and stubble lining his chin busying himself with the flora on the counter in tall vases made of coloured glass. He looked up as they entered, his eyes shining, a smile breaking out on his lips.

"Bonjour, Lukas," he cried, walking up to them. He inspected Mathias, having to tilt his head only slightly to meet his eyes. He put his hands in the front pocket of his white apron, lifting an eyebrow at Lukas who barely rolled his eyes. Mathias looked between them, confusion weighing on his shoulders. He was the stranger in this situation, and he didn't like it very much.

"Morning, Francis," Lukas replied, his voice steady. "I came to pick up the flowers."

"Of course my friend! I have a fresh bouquet of Mountain Avens awaiting you, if you'd wait a moment." He looked at Mathias then again, winking at him before rushing into a room behind the main shop, filling Mathias with an even deeper confusion. He shot Lukas a look of despair, but he regarded it with little more than a light sigh.

Something caught his eye. A shelf hung on the wall, filled with neatly arranged miscellaneous items, a photo frame in the centre. Mathias walked over to it, feeling Lukas' eyes bore into his back. The photo in said frame showed two boys, one who he immediately recognized as the florist, Francis, the other also familiar looking. He could not place where he had seen the other blonde boy though. As he pondered it, the man came back, carrying a bouquet of flowers as white as fresh snow with yellow centres like small suns, wrapped in white with a blue ribbon. He handed them to Lukas who took them wordlessly, taking a pre-counted sum of money from his back pocket and handing it to the smiling owner.

"How is your brother?" Francis asked then, earning a furrowing of Lukas' brows. He shifted uncomfortably, seeming to curl up slightly. He looked smaller than Mathias remembered him. He wondered if he'd been eating properly.

"He's... the same." Francis nodded, placing a hand on the Norwegian's shoulder at which he jumped.

"I'm sorry to hear that. But," his eyes shifted to Mathias again, his gaze with an odd intensity to it, making Mathias' chest feel tight in anxiety. Why did he keep looking at him? He looked at Lukas who also was looking at him, a faint blush dusting his pale cheeks. He shook his head, lips in a tight, thin line. Francis seemed mildly disappointed.

"Shame." Lukas thanked him, starting to leave. Just as he opened the door, Francis stopped him with final words. "You know, the heather and the clover complement each other at the end of the day. There is a certain beauty to them, even if only a few see it." Lukas' mouth gaped slightly, and Mathias could see the gears of his mind turning the words over inside his head.

"I don't understand what you mean," he lied monotonously, "Goodbye Francis."

Once outside, he didn't spare a glance for the other, who had to pick up his pace to keep up with the shorter man rushing on ahead, the flowers grasped tightly in his hands. Luckily for Mathias, his longer legs gave him the advantage, catching up and pulling at his tshirt, forcing him to look at him. There was a small frown on Lukas' face, which seemed unusually flushed.

"Are you okay? What did he mean about the heather and clover?"

"I said I didn't understand." Lukas tugged his top from the other's grasp, eyes on the mountain avens held close to his chest. Mathias, after a moment, held out his arms, connecting their eyes. Hesitant, Lukas passed the flowers to his friend who handled them with great care. He didn't try to converse again on the way, for which the Norwegian seemed more than grateful.

The hospital came into sight, and the two headed straight for it. The familiar scent of bleach and artificial cleanliness, people in white coats milling around. They both nodded to the receptionist who knew them by this point, and headed down the familiar, bleak, sickly green corridors. It was oddly quiet, save their footsteps echoing off the walls and their breathing.

Lukas pushed the door open to the ward, freezing up in the doorway, before shaking his head and continuing in, Mathias following him. Emil lay where they left him. His platinum hair was the same as always, his skin as pale as always and his eyes closed as always. It was like they were gone for 5 minutes rather than any longer. The heart rate monitor bleeped beside him.

"Hey Emil," Lukas said, bending over to place a soft, fleeting kiss on the smaller brother's forehead as the oldest in the room replaced the flowers on the bedside cabinet. Lukas pulled up a chair and sat stroking circles into his sibling's limp hand, eyes never leaving his face, speaking many words about what he was missing. Mathias wondered how often he had already recited the same words, the same speech, hoping they would stir the boy, even if only slightly. He seemed to be fidgeting with something in his jeans pocket, which Mathias reckoned was the phone they had discovered earlier. His whole body seemed on edge, muscles tense. He wondered how he was coping.

Then, he froze. Mathias pulled a face; this was unusual. He had gone completely silent mid-sentence, having trailed off. Then, slowly, he pulled out the phone, looking down at it. He seemed to consider something for a moment, the silence in the room louder than thunder.

He stood up so suddenly that Mathias wasn't sure how to react, or if he even should react. The Norwegian's face looked so serious; more so than ever. He saw a glint in his dark eyes, which also intrigued him.

"Stay with Emil," Lukas ordered, "I'll be right back."

Mathias watched him leave, before turning his head to the teenager lying in the bed. He knew he should stay just in case, but he wanted some answers. Being kept in the dark hurt like salt on an open wound; and he felt too curious. One last glance at Emil, he followed after the footsteps he heard in the distant corridor, attempting to stay quiet. Being in an empty hospital was eerie, and he did not fancy staying alone, picking up pace.

He lost the sound, relying on guess work. Just as he thought he lost Lukas, he heard a faint voice from inside one of the wards, although they were muffled, making it unable to pick out words. He knelt on the ground, putting his ear against the dull door. This didn't make it much clearer, but he could at least recognize the voice. _Lukas._

Mathias leaned in further, before deciding it was no use. He wouldn't be able to understand anything his friend was saying, not without... Opening the door as quietly as he could, he left it slightly ajar, the words much easier to hear. Clear words, shocking words. Lukas' words.

"...so if you could come..." he hiccuped, a few sniffy noises reverberating off the walls and out onto the corridor. Mathias leaned in slightly, taking a peak in. The small figure sat crumpled on the floor of an otherwise empty ward, light filtering in through the window dimly, highlighting the creases of his face.

"T-thank you," he said before hanging up the phone he had been speaking on, laying his head between his arms. His shoulders were shaking, as was his whole body. The sight made it impossible for Mathias to move, a thousand knives stabbing him in the chest. He understood the sniffling noises then. After pushing back emotions for so long, that dam finally broke, releasing the flood, causing internal turmoil. The sound was crying.

Lukas was broken.

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_Woah a chapter a week after the previous one. Shocker really c':_

_It's shorter than the last one but I felt like this was a good stopping point._

_Please review to tell me what I could improve on! Your reviews give me the will to continue!_


	9. Chapter 9

When Lukas walked back into the ward, everything looked as he had left it; the same beds; the same Emil with Mathias sitting at his side, squeezing his hand gently. He looked up at Lukas, something about his eyes off. Lukas put little thought to it.

Mathias got up, straightening his back. He approached him, putting two hands on his shoulder, bending over slightly to be on complete eye level with the shorter boy. Up close as they were, Lukas had a proper chance to look at his face; tangled light blonde hair obscuring blue eyes dulled with age and experience, and skin sprinkled with contrasting freckles. He swore they were never there before, but he could have been mistaken.

Mathias seemed to be inspecting him as closely as Lukas was. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but was cut off by Lukas taking his hands from his shoulders, speaking first.

"I need to go wait for someone downstairs," his voice sounded hoarse to his own ears, wondering if Mathias was able to pick it up too. He had had to stay in the room for a little while longer than intended, collecting the pieces he had allowed to fall apart in the few minutes he spent there. It couldn't have been longer than a quarter of an hour, but he felt like Mathias could tell like something was wrong, even if he triple checked that his face was as pale as usual, the redness around his eyes gone. The only indication that anything was wrong was his voice and yet... From the moment he walked in, Mathias' eyes were on him, anxious.

"I'll go with you."

"No, stay here. Emil... keep my brother safe. Please." Mathias seemed to be shaken by that. Lukas didn't beg, and yet he had. If it meant looking out for his little brother, he'd give up all his pride, lose everything just to protect him. Mathias let out a shaky breath.

"Alright. Though I'm sure he'd rather have you here than me."

"That's not true," Lukas whispered as he exited, his hand lingering on the door frame. He looked so vulnerable, so broken. So tired. Then he was gone.

* * *

The Norwegian twiddled with his thumbs as he sat on the uncomfortable red seats in the front of the hospital. He had been sitting there for so long that the receptionist who he didn't recognise (she must have been new), had started up a one-sided conversation with him, even offering him coffee which he declined. The coffee in this place sucked, though he didn't tell her that, and she seemed to silently understand.

He was thankful for her chattering in the background, however little he responded to her. The buzz was comforting in it's own way. Somewhere along the line she had sat down beside him, blonde hair cupping her face. Lukas looked at her in surprise, then down at his hand where she was writing something in black felt-tip. It was her number, he realised when she finished, her smile reaching her green eyes. He scanned the number, faking a small smile and nodding, letting out a small "thanks". He felt incredibly awkward, her eyes on him. He couldn't help but unintentionally shift slightly away from her.

It wasn't that she was unattractive - on the contrary, she was beautiful; lips as pink and soft looking as rose petals; eyes green like peridots and hair as yellow as gold. And yet something felt off. He wondered what had given her the idea he was interested in her.

She nodded, smiling brighter, going back to her seat at the front desk, only mouthing "call me" as she left. He could feel her eyes on the back of his head. He shifted again. _Hurry up,_ he thought, not looking away from the doors.

A man who looked about Mathias' age, maybe slightly older walked in then, a teenage boy at his side. They were asian, the older with long dark hair in a ponytail resting on his shoulder, the younger with what Lukas could only describe as a scene kid hairstyle. The younger's eyes caught sight of him, and he said something to his guardian, the two heading over to the blonde. He stood up, shaking hands with the man. They introduced each other, and he found out he was Leon's older brother, Yao. He found he had to look down at him slightly, being a few inches taller than him, which was a welcomed change.

He led them to the ward, the three walking in near silence. The moment Lukas opened the door, all expression on Leon's face fell. He walked slowly over to the bed, where Mathias sat watching over the boy. He vacated his chair to allow the younger to sit by his friend.

"Hey," he said. He stayed silent, either unable to thing of anything more to say or to embarrassed to say it. Mathias had joined Lukas and Yao at the door, the three watching the scene wordlessly. Leon licked his lips.

"It's been too long..." he whispered, his shoulders dropping, hands clenching into small fists. "If you can hear me, please, just... one sign. Anything." Nothing. The small boy moved his gaze, golden eyes on the floor. He sighed. He muttered something that Lukas couldn't catch, before looking back at the silver haired boy lying under the covers, pale as a ghost would be.

"It's not the same without you, Em. Your seat is always empty in class and I have no one to joke around with. Please, I... I need you back." He reached out to touch Emil's hand, and in that moment, although Lukas couldn't tell if he had imagined it, the heart rate monitor seemed to have showed something more than it had in the past months.

Emil's heart had skipped a beat.

* * *

Mathias had decided that it was best for them to go home, to which Lukas obliged. Mathias said goodbye to Leon and Yao who had decided to stay a while longer at the hospital. Nothing had changed since the heart monitor incident that Lukas was now sure was just a mistake in the apparatus. It had to be. Emil wasn't any closer to waking up than before Leon's visit. There was no way.

He sighed as they walked through the front door. Mathias picked up on this, sending him an inquisitive glance which he shrugged off. The house was still, as it often seemed to be these days. For the first time in months he wondered where Berwald and Tino were.

Ambling to the door to the lounge, creaking it open. He peeked inside, immediately finding who he was looking for. The two boys lay on the sofa, Berwald's glasses sliding off his nose, Tino's hair a mess as he rested against the other's chest. They must have been exhausted to have fallen asleep against each other on a summer evening like this. Hanatamago yapped at him, and he shushed her, closing the door slowly again.

The sun wasn't setting for another few hours, but he told the Dane goodnight anyway, deciding to go to bed early. He closed his curtains, slipping into his pajamas in the dimmed light of the late summer sun. His bed had never felt more comforting and welcoming than it did then as he slipped under the duvet, closing his eyes.

The darkness surrounded him. For a moment he couldn't see anything, everything black. He couldn't hear anything either, painfully aware of his breathing. He turned on his phone, the brightness of the screen blinding him. Half past 2 AM. He threw his head back into the pillow, rubbing his eyes. He never woke up this early. Just as he was about to throw the duvet over his head and attempt to go back to sleep, he heard movement in the room next door. He froze. Slipping out from under his covers, he walked out into the corridor.

He hated the dark. He didn't mind what he could see, it didn't bother him. But what he couldn't frightened him stiff. He took a breath, stepping out. Judging it was safe, he crept over to the other's door, listening. Something was definitely moving in there. He felt a wave of worry wash over him. Carefully, he opened the door.

The Norwegian stood in the dark doorway, idle, watching Mathias sitting on the floor, sifting through the contents of a small, black shoe box with the letters "M.M.K" written in silver pen on the lid. Lukas furrowed his brows, tilting his head to try to see better. He wasn't sure if it was just a trick of the moon and torch light but the Dane's shoulders shook, his breathing seeming shallow.

He hesitated, walking slowly into the room, the floor board creaking under his weight. Mathias looked at him, though Lukas could not see his face in the darkness. He knelt down beside him, no words spoken by either of them. Soundless, he felt Mathias' head fall onto his shoulder, burying his face into his shirt, the shaking of his body increased. Lukas froze before placing an unsure hand on his back in a silent embrace, rubbing circles. He could feel warm tears staining his top but he didn't care. He pulled him closer, awkwardly, slowly, Mathias' hands digging into the fabric on his back, desperate. Lukas pressed his lips to the top of the other's head before resting his chin on it, his eyes scanning the items on the floor as he continued to caress the other's back calmingly. He couldn't make it out clearly but it looked like pieces of paper among other things – photos?

Mathias pulled away and, in the dim light, Lukas could see the dark streaks where the tears had slid down his cheeks, his blue eyes dulled. Lukas lifted his hand to brush some of Den's hair away from his eyes, being stopped by his large hand clamping around his, pausing over his warm, damp skin. His muscles tensed momentarily, before relaxing slightly, studying Mathias' face, his eyes closed. They stayed still, the clock on the bedside table ticking quietly beside them, the only clue that time hadn't stopped.

It had been at least two minutes before either spoke or even moved a muscle, content in the silence surrounding them. Mathias' eyes fluttered open, resting on Lukas' face. The look in them was deep, pained. It was one that Lukas had never seen in Mathias' person, or had ever thought he would.

Freeing the other's hand, he turned to the box again, picking up the photos, eyes intently on them, shielded by his long, blonde lashes. He took a shaking breath of air.

"My... my mum, s-she..." he was shaking again, unable to look up as he spoke. Lukas feared he would start crying again. He gently took the photos from him, to which he did not resist. There was a small boy who he knew was Mathias, along with a much younger Érik, like when Lukas first met him, and a woman, her hair long, messy, eyes bright blue, so full of life like that of someone he knew. Those identical eyes looked much different now in the silver light entering through the window, filling him with a feeling of longing. Those weren't the eyes he knew.

"What happened...?"

"She... she was in a car accident. I don't remember her that well but..." he laughed solemnly. "My first memory is of her lying in a coffin. She was surrounded by clovers – tacky, I know but... they were her favourite." He licked his cracked lips. "She looked so peaceful. Of course I didn't understand at the time." He sighed, before trailing off. Lukas nodded, unsure what to say, how to reply. Mathias probably cried like this every night for over ten years, mourning a mother he only remembered as a fleeting memory of a woman with blonde hair, lying in eternal sleep. He looked at him again, quietly. He hurt so deeply, damaged at his core. And he smiled. He laughed so loud and smiled so bright he challenged the sun. He doubted he had ever shared this with anyone. Locked in your own mind, with pain so deep it scars your soul, not letting anyone see, not letting anyone help. That sounded incredibly lonely.

Mathias smiled sadly. "She was apparently in a coma before she died. Emil... It happening to Emil wrecked me. I lost a mother I barely knew. For you... you could be losing the only family you have left. I care for you both and... it hurts." He laughed, a feeble attempt at filling the grave atmosphere in the room.

Then he was pulled into a tight, unexpected embrace, Lukas' face in his shirt. Mathias blinked a few times, surprised, the tears still glazing his vision. Lukas said nothing, and neither did Mathias. And that was enough. Because sometimes a silence has the same weight as a million words.

After all, even the most beautiful things can be broken.

* * *

_Boom. 3rd chapter in two weeks. I almost forgot how much I loved writing. c':_

_I have a lot more time now so expect more very soon!_

_Tell me what I could improve on/what you liked it makes my day ~_


	10. Chapter 10

The morning after was a blissful blur after the events of the past day. Lukas and Mathias ate breakfast together at the kitchen table, Lukas even noting that Berwald and Tino had joined them, the small Finn brewing them all cups of strong, black coffee for which he was thankful for.

He had stayed a while longer that night, comforting Mathias as well as he could. Stroking his blonde locks, his fingers running through his hair and across the delicate skin of his face. He wasn't sure how to reassure the other, trying his best, softly, silently. In turn Mathias never let go of the fabric of his shirt, holding onto it like it was his lifeline. He seemed so helplessly lost, meandering through the crooked paths in his own head, lost in his own mind. Lukas didn't like the thought.

Staying like this for a long time, minutes seemed to pass like seconds, hours like minutes. He could feel the hammering in Mathias' chest slow down until it was normal. He just wished his could slow down too.

He snapped out of his thoughts just as Tino placed a cup of freshly brewed coffee just as he liked it in front of him. He thanked him with a nod, taking a sip, concentrating on the warm feeling of the liquid flowing down his body, filling him with it's warmth. His senses tingled, the caffeine a welcomed morning present.

There seemed to be an awkward sort of silence that felt strained as they ate, until Tino couldn't take it anymore. He turned to Lukas, his face a mixture of worry and mild glee; the contrast was unnerving.

"It's nice to see you again Nor," he said in one breath, seeming relieved to a degree. Berwald nodded beside him. "We haven't eaten like this since... the accident. How are you? Ber and I, we... we were worried. And Mathias too, right Mathias?" He went off into one of his rants, at which the Norwegian couldn't help but lightly chuckle. He watched as Berwald placed a large hand on Tino's shoulder, stopping him mid-sentence, the Finn looking up at him, a faint blush dusting his face as their eyes connected, realising he'd gone off on a tangent again. He looked at Mathias then, who was watching him. They looked away, remembering the previous night.

He let out a shaky breath. "I'm... fine," he shrugged, looking at his toast, not feeling very hungry anymore all of a sudden, his stomach sinking as he spoke. "I've been better but..." he trailed off. He felt their eyes on him, all three pairs like aquamarines, amethysts and blue tourmaline bearing into him, anxious. The atmosphere in the kitchen was like a thick winter duvet draped over them, bearing them down with it's weight. Out of the corner of his vision he saw Tino nod.

Tino hesitated for a second, before taking a breath, about to speak. And yet another voice that did not belong to him spoke. One who's every word he clung onto. Mathias'.

"We're here if you need us. Emil might be your biological brother but we care for him like he's ours too. So you don't have to suffer alone." Lukas blinked a few times looking at him, too stunned for words. He scanned the three faces around the table; Tino's violet eyes bright and smile light and reassuring; Berwald, straight faced but cyan eyes soft; and Mathias... his eyes lingered on his features, on his confident lop-sided grin and brows furrowed giving him an air of determination about him. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't. He was speechless, his mouth agape, unable to think let alone speak. A feeling like that of sitting in front of a fireplace on a cold winter's night wrapped in blankets and drinking hot chocolate with marshmallows over came him. It felt so warm, comfortable, calm and... happy.

"Thank you," he whispered looking down at the cup of coffee held tightly in his hands, the heat of the mug prickling his palms. Tino and Mathias jumped lightly in surprise before grinning brightly again.

"That's what family's for Nor," Tino laughed, leaning over the table to take a hold of one of Lukas' hands. The Norwegian looked at him, awed. "We've let you go on by yourself for too long. We want to help. Right Sve?" The Swede nodded beside him. Lukas couldn't help but let a small smile play on his lips. This was home.

"Hey," Mathias said suddenly, "What's that?" Lukas followed his line of sight quietly, resting on the hand that Tino held. Faintly, he could see the remains of pen on his skin from yesterday. He looked back at Mathias sharply, who was tilting his head in confusion, an expression filling his face that Lukas could only describe as conflicted.

"It's... a phone number. Of the new receptionist at the hospital." Mathias nodded as Tino sat back in his chair again, quiet.

"Have you called her?"

"Why do you care?"

Mathias shrugged, the smile returning to his lips, however it didn't reach his eyes. "No reason."

Lukas raised an eyebrow at him, disbelieving him. Mathias couldn't meet his eyes. He sighed and sipped his coffee again just as another figure he had not spoken to in a while joined them at the table.

Érik looked tired as he poured himself coffee, and Lukas noted the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that he hadn't noticed before. He looked exhausted.

"Good morning," he smiled, taking a seat between Mathias and Berwald. They all greeted him politely. "It's nice to see you eating with us again Lukas." He smiled warmly yet wearily at Lukas who simply nodded. "How are we all today?"

They ate as a family, the warmth from before returning, smiles and jokes passing around the members. He missed this, Lukas realised. He was so busy concentrating on Emil to notice how much he had wanted this back. No, how much he _needed_ it. He felt something warm and wet trail down his cheek.

"Hey," Mathias snapped his head towards him, his whole posture and voice alarmed. He placed a hand on the other's shoulder in concern. "Nor are you all right?"

He nodded, looking up, a genuine smile lighting up his face. "I've never been better."

* * *

They sat under the tree in the garden, neither saying a word. The day was warm and cloudless, and Érik had decided it'd be best for everyone to stay at home for the day or not visit Emil at the very least, to Lukas' dismay.

It had turned August. When had that time passed by? Lukas wasn't sure. The air was so still, not even a slight breeze blew on his face or through his hair. The air was mildly humid, making it difficult to breathe but that was the only thing disturbing the tranquility of the garden. He was alone. Alone with Mathias.

He looked up at him. The shadow of the tree fell across his face in an almost artistic manner, his lashes almost golden. His chest rose and fell slowly, rhythmically. His eyes fluttered open then, looking back at him, a peaceful smile growing on his lips. They sat leaning back against the tree, looking at each other for a short eternity, navy eyes on azure.

"Did I tell you," Mathias said slowly without warning, "I was accepted at the University of Copenhagen. Sve was at the one in Stockholm but I think I got the better deal." He looked at him grinning, eyes shining proudly. Lukas figured he should feel proud of him too.

Yet, he didn't. An ugly, cold feeling manifested itself in his chest, refusing to leave as much as he wished it to.

"Good for you," he whispered, looking away. He felt Mathias shift beside him.

"What's wrong?" Mathias' voice alone left Lukas able to imagine the expression on his features, from the worried furrow of his brows, to the pout on his lips. He shook his head. "It's obviously not nothing."

"I don't know Mathias," he looked at him then, sadly. "I don't know."

Mathias thought for a second before whispering "come here", and wrapping his arms around the slighter boy's shoulders, resting his head on his chest. Lukas could hear his heart, beating steadily. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sound. _Thump. Thump. Thump._ It calmed him as he tried to steady his breathing to the rhythm, subconsciously nothing how it seemed slightly escalated. Just like his own.

Lukas pulled away, suddenly really conscious of how close they were to each other. He leaned against the rough bark once more, looking up at the sky, his heart refusing to calm down.

"When's your flight?" He asked at last, choking slightly on his words.

"September 1st. Sve and I got both our flights booked on that day." He waited a second after Lukas nodded before asking, "You'll come to see us off, right?"

"Of course."

"Good," he sounded relieved. He hesitated again before saying, "I'll call everyday. I'll send you photos and stuff and we can video call. That'd be nice, wouldn't it?" Lukas made a non-committal sound that could have meant yes or no, but nodded slightly.

"I'd like that."

The Dane smiled, shutting his eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck, ruffling his hair further. Lukas' eyes however focused on the other side of the garden. On the doorstep sat Tino and Berwald, Tino seeming to chatter on as he did with Berwald listening silently, intently. Everything seemed normal and yet he couldn't peel his eyes away, and if he had he'd have missed something important. He'd have missed the way Berwald leaned down and kissed the younger boy, who smiled into the kiss.

Mathias followed his gaze, also watching with a grin. "About time, right?" he laughed. Lukas barely computed that he had spoken.

"Yeah," he whispered. "About time."

* * *

The sound of ringing interrupted his thoughts. Mathias, Berwald, Tino and Lukas had decided to play a "friendly" game of monopoly, which, like the three latter boys feared, did not turn out so friendly. Twenty minutes in and the two older boys were already arguing over property. Lukas sunk back against the couch, answering the phone with a monotonous "hello?".

Érik's voice sounded thrilled. "Lukas? Can you tell everyone to meet me at the hospital at once. I have a surprise for you." Lukas sat up, leaning against his knees with one arm, before confirming he can do that and putting down the call. Mathias and Berwald had temporarily decided upon a truce, everyone looking at him. He told them about what the man had said, and they set off towards the building, walking in pairs on the pavement.

The man was waiting patiently by the entrance, trying, and failing, to hide a smile. Lukas felt a wave of anxiety and anticipation sweep over him as he followed down the corridor that he knew so well, stopping outside that same ward door, the man's smile the brightest Lukas had seen it. He opened the door and Lukas could have sworn he felt his heart stop.

Inside the ward, Emil sat in bed looking back at him.

* * *

_A new chapter folks. I'm so happy to have gotten this far with this fic thank you so much for your support 3_


	11. Chapter 11

Lukas stood still, frozen. He couldn't believe the sight in front of his eyes. He knew the others behind him had frozen up in the same way as him. Slowly, one step at a time, he stepped in. As he reached the bed, he felt his legs give in under him, falling to his knees, grabbing onto the side of the bed. He felt Emil's cold fingers brush against his knuckles. He looked at him, unblinking, scared that if he did it would all turn out to be a dream. A wonderfully toxic dream.

He got up, shaking, sitting down gently on the side of the bed, trying to not move it too much, interlocking his fingers with the younger brother's. He was paler and thinner than he had been before, but his violet eyes still held a glimmer to them. His silver hair had grown to the point where it covered his eyes like that of an Icelandic Horse.

After a second of silence, Lukas said, "You need a haircut." The boy made a face, sliding some hair behind his ear, away from his eyes.

"It's nice to see you too, Lukas." The Norwegian smiled lightly. It was a miracle. A wonderful, wonderful miracle. The disbelief and wonder that he felt filled him up, starting with his chest and spreading through his limbs.

He felt Emil's hand run up from his knuckles up the length of his arm to his face, resting on his cheek. He lifted his hand to meet his, cuffing it, closing his eyes, feeling the small smile he had falter on his lips. A single warm crystal fell silently down his cheek as he pressed the other's hand to his face, his breathing short. Without thinking, he fell against the other, burying his face in the fabric of the hospital gown that smelt like Emil. Emil, his little brother, awake. He could feel his shoulders shaking and the elevation of the younger's chest.

He heard something in the corridor. It was the sound of someone talking but he couldn't make out who it was. He turned to look at the door, aware of the trails left down his face, Emil turning too, more sharply, like he had been snapped back into focus. Everyone's eyes focused on the ward door close to immediately, other than Mathias' who's, Lukas noticed, lingered on him a while longer before turning. They spectated quietly as their father-figure walked through the door, looking at someone beyond their sight. However that wasn't for long.

Leon's eyes were on a bouquet of fresh Mountain Avens that he held in his hands, as if he wanted to look at anything other than the bed. Érik raised a hand that stopped him, forcing him to look up.

And stop. His golden eyes grew wide, lips gaping, taking in a large breath of air. Lukas felt Emil stiffen underneath him, his breathing raspy in his chest. Leon ran up to him and Lukas, breathing about as even as the Icelandic boy's, eyes tightly glued to Emil's, a gaze passing between them like there was no one else.

Lukas scooted away, heaving himself off the bed, leaving the two teenagers to themselves. He stood by Mathias, who scanned his face, seeming to think for a second. After a short hesitation, he wiped Lukas' cheek with the back of his hand, earning a grimace at the contact but no objections. The Dane grinned, and he couldn't help but smile lightly back. This seemed to leave the other stunned for a second, before he said,

"You should smile more often."

The Norwegian sighed, crossing his arms. "It's better to save it."

They shared a look, a long look, neither looking away. It was just a simple gaze however something in that look felt like... more. He couldn't properly describe it, but he felt it in the way his body relaxed and the way Mathias' grin was replaced to a look of wonder. An outstanding warmth radiated from his chest, right where his heart was.

He felt his chest tighten, looking back at his brother and the Chinese boy sharply, feeling his face redden. It couldn't be... could it? That'd be a cliché and no one liked a cliché. He bit the inside of his cheek. He didn't have feelings for Mathias. That'd be ridiculous. Preposterous. Out of the question. He could feel the other's eyes watching him worriedly, his brows probably furrowed in that way that he did with his head titled slightly and his mouth slightly agape...

How did he know all that? He looked at his feet, trying to concentrate on anything other than the feeling of being watched and the surprise at how well he knew his spectator. It was due to having known him since they were kids, he reassured himself, although a part of him didn't buy it. It was nothing. He put the thoughts to the back of his head.

His head snapped back as he heard the door opening. This time it was a man he recognised as a doctor, specifically the one who was looking after his brother. He was as tall as Berwald which was incredibly so, with light blonde hair and violet eyes, his deep-set nose his defining feature. He held a clipboard in his hands.

"Good afternoon," he greeted, his Russian accent think. The doctor walked over to the Icelander who regarded him with a half-informed expression. He looked over some papers before looking at the boy again. "Emil, my name Dr. Braginsky. How are you feeling."

"All right," Emil's hand gripped Leon's tightly as he answered the man's question.

"Good good," he replied cheerfully. "It seems you're all clear. There's a wheelchair waiting for you for when you want to leave to sign out." Lukas furrowed his brows at that.

"Why does he need a wheelchair?" he asked, puzzled. The man looked back at him with a smile.

"Don't you know?" He looked over at Érik who's lips were a tight line. "You didn't tell them, did you?" He sighed shaking his head as Mathias sent his dad a confused glance. "Emil's nerve system was badly damaged in the crash. He won't ever walk again."

Lukas felt his heart plummet to his stomach. He glanced at the platinum haired boy who was staring at his legs, his friend watching him with wide brown eyes. Dr Braginsky nodded to Érik and left, causing a silence to fill the room. No one spoke. Nothing was needed to be said. Everyone thought as one.

Emil closed his eyes. "Get the wheelchair," he whispered, "I want to go home." Érik left to get the chair, being the only one who wasn't completely breaking down. Tino's eyes were filled with tears as Berwald hugged him, placing small butterfly kisses on the top of his head, Leon and Lukas unable to move. Mathias placed a hand on the Norwegian's shoulder that he didn't even brush away. He wanted to cry but couldn't.

He felt too empty to.

Lukas had insisted to be the one to push the chair. They had walked home in near silence, other than that of Tino and Mathias trying to make light of the situation to no avail. At least it was better than before, Lukas thought. He could have never woken up. They could have ended up deciding to pull the plug.

He shuddered at the thought, pushing it far away, greatful that had not been the case and he had his brother back. He couldn't push that dark empty feeling away though, and it bothered him. It felt like nothing but everything; an all consuming darkness. Mathias walked in step with him.

"When we get home we can have fish," he proposed, trying to sound enthusiastic, "How about mackerel? You both love mackerel!"

Emil nodded lightly. "Yeah, that sounds pretty good. I mean I haven't eaten in 3 months, mackerel is a good place to start."

Mathias grinned. "It's settled then."

Érik had stayed behind to sort the last few things out, leaving them with a house to themselves. Mathias ran off to make the meal, Lukas wheeling Emil into the lounge where they sat with Tino and Berwald, informing the boy about the last few months. Somewhere in the middle, Mathias had walked in with a tray carrying their plates with fish, stating that Érik would surely not mind them eating there this one time.

As they had finished, Berwald stood up, saying he was going to get a glass of water. They all nodded, waiting for him to come back. But he didn't. Tino got up, his movement skittish, saying he was going to check on him. When he hadn't returned either was when Lukas got really worried. He looked pointedly at Mathias who nodded, turning to the youngest.

"So Ice," he grinned as Lukas got up, "Now that you have a wheelchair, how does taking up wheelchair basketball sound?"

Internally, Lukas facepalmed. Externally he left, making his way to the kitchen where he saw the crumpled figures of the two missing Nordics sitting on the floor, the Finn gently wrapping the Swede in his arms as he held on to a piece of paper. Tino glanced at him as he walked in with a sad smile.

He knelt down beside them, glancing over at the paper. It was a letter, a few wet patches that he could only place as tears staining the parchment. He took it with no resistance. The writing was messy but legible, probably belonging to that of a child no older than Arthur's little brother Peter who was 12.

Dear Berwald,

You don't know me but I know you. I'm Erland. I'm your younger brother! Or, half-brother I suppose. I asked the nice lady who comes and she said I can write to you if I wanted so...

Dad has a new wife. Well new isn't the right word after 11 years but you know what I mean. My mum. She's been helping him out a lot and he talks about you a lot and I just thought you should know that! He misses you and wants you to come home to Växjö or at least visit. I'd love to meet you! You sound like a great brother, and need to know how brilliant a younger brother you have!

I hope you write back!

Erland

P.S. Sorry for writing in English I wasn't sure how good your Swedish skills are.

He handed it back quietly. None of them said anything for a while, the only sound being their breathing.

"This might be a bad time but I never asked what happened to you when you were a kid." Berwald looked at him, face pained. "If you don't mind me asking."

Tino watched the other nervously, but he just sighed. "'t's nothing big," he replied slowly, "M' mum died and dad couldn't handle it. Started t' drink an' gamble. Got into a lot of debt. An' like with ya an' Emil, Érik saved me. I got letters from 'im in the first year but then they stopped. Until this," he lifted the piece of paper, not taking his eyes off it. He grew quiet again, everything said.

Lukas' thoughts turned to his own family; father gone, and mother losing her sanity to the point of being unable to look after them anymore. Tino was crying quietly, stroking the Swede's hair.

He spoke up slowly, softly. "My situation was similar," he attempted to be supportive, recounting his own story, noticing the other's shoulders slumping. His muscles seemed to give in, letting him fall down into the Finn's arms.

He was half-aware of Mathias and Emil in the doorway, having listened to at least half the conversation. The older wheeled the younger over before settling himself down beside Lukas. Berwald looked at each of their faces, lingering on Tino's face, each of them sending him supportive glances. He seemed to smile lightly, closing his eyes. The peace that followed was a tranquil one; warm, comfortable, joyous.

Home.

* * *

_Eyyy new chapter. I have two and a half weeks of school left before it's summer break so I will be writing during that. Hopefully a chapter will be up before the 24th as that is when I'm going to Poland for a week so you won't be getting a chapter at that time._

_I hope you liked this though! Review and tell me what you thought. ~_

_Byes guys_


	12. Chapter 12

The first buds of summer began to wilt, singular leaves turning to gold and amber. It was intriguing, Lukas thought, how something could be so beautiful when it was dying.

Fields rolled past the car window, until they were replaced by an urban jungle. Planes flew low above the buildings, leaving behind white tails. He had only been on a plane once when he was 5, but he remembered the feeling of take-off and the painful sensation of his ears popping.

Érik parked the car, and the six of them exited, Mathias loping off to open the car boot and take out the luggage. He unpacked the car, grinning all the time. From the stature in his posture, it was clear to see that his heart was racing. Berwald set up Emil's chair and helped get the boy into it as the Dane slammed the car boot shut.

The excited puppy gripped tightly onto the handle of his red suitcase, gesturing for them to hurry as he ran towards the bus stop where there were only two other people waiting. He bounced as they joined his side, beaming from ear to ear, receiving weird looks from the strangers.

"I can't believe I'll be in Copenhagen in about 5 hours," he screeched, his grin growing wider every second. He had so much life in his azuline eyes, so much youth on his face with the hint of stubble lining his chin. There was something about his being at that moment that sent a shiver down Lukas' spine.

They rode the bus down to the airport, making small talk on the way, with most of the conversation being Mathias fidgeting in his seat as he ran out of breath telling everyone what he was going to do and see in Copenhagen. It was exhilarating watching him never run out of energy or things to say, his voice almost thrilling in a way, personality too charismatic to stop listening. He barely noticed when the bus stopped and they got off, the Dane still yapping as he walked with Tino at his side, laughing at something he said.

The atmosphere inside the airport was astounding. The bustle of the people scurrying to reach their check-ins, the clamour of their voices loud, reverberating off the walls and various items inside.

Mathias inhaled, reading the departure timetable. "Check-in at 34-36 for Copenhagen, and 45-47 for Stockholm." Berwald nodded and they decided to split up for the check-ins, Mathias going with Lukas, Érik and Emil while Berwald went with Tino. Although they went with him, Mathias stood in the queue alone, grinning back at Lukas every few seconds, his body shaken with excitement. Lukas rolled his eyes every time, a small smile playing on the corners of his lips as he watched the man place his suitcase on the tape to be taken to the rest of the luggage.

Practically skipping back, Mathias clapped his hands, beaming, his rucksack which he was using as his hand luggage not so securely hanging from one arm. They went to meet up with the other two again, Mathias chattering once more, the amplitude of his voice causing some to turn and glare at him, and Lukas, to his own surprise, found himself glaring back.

Once the six of them were once again together was the moment that he began to feel an ache in his chest. It started off small as he watched Mathias and Berwald hugging each of them in turn, growing with each embrace. By the time he had just hugged Berwald with a firm clasp on the back, he was unable to ignore it. He looked at Mathias, finding he was looking back, arms open, an eyebrow raised. He sighed, punching him lightheartedly on the arm instead, the feeling not leaving him be. Mathias' face fell slightly for a split moment before returning to a grin. He laughed, before saying goodbye a final time.

He couldn't watch him go. Some part of him couldn't bear it. Instead he focused on something else; Tino and Berwald had walked a little away from them, talking quietly to each other. The small Finn's cheeks were stained, the taller's fingers gently caressing his face, lifting it slightly to kiss him. The tiny gesture made the pain in his chest flutter, his head snapping in the direction of the leaving Dane. Before he knew what he was doing, he ran.

Just as Mathias turned, confusion on his face, he fell against him, arms tight around his torso, fingers gripping to the fabric of his shirt, face buried in his shoulder. For a second he swore he felt Mathias' heart skip a beat. Before Mathias could react, he spoke, whispering softly.

"Call the moment you land," his voice was muffled in the fabric but still audible as he felt a laugh pass through the Dane. He felt long fingers running through his fair hair, gentle, careful, as though he was a fragile china doll or an old painting.

"Didn't know you loved me this much, Nor," Mathias laughed, at which Lukas felt his neck redden, the warmth rushing to it without his control. Mathias' grin widened seeing the flush on his face, eyes never once leaving Lukas' face. "Just joshing with you, Luke. I'll try to remember to call," he winked, patting the other's shoulder a final time before leaving to catch his plane, becoming lost to Lukas in the sea of bodies bustling in the pre-autumn hustle.

* * *

They had long been home when it happened. The four of them who remained had decided to spend the remainder of the afternoon with each other, playing a few old board games at the kitchen table. From the depths of the misused closet under the stairs the Finn had managed to salvage a few ancient looking boxes, coated in a thick layer of dust that flew off around the whole room if you moved too fast, causing Emil to sneeze multiple times, his wheelchair rolling slowly back every time.

They were in the middle of an intense game of battle ships, Emil and Lukas vs Érik and Tino. Lukas' opposition had had incredible luck; the two had sunk all but two of the brothers' ships, both of which were single ones, while keeping most of their own ships, including their five ship afloat. The dire situation frustrated him, and the need to bang his head against the desk was overpowering.

"J6?" Emil asked, his voice faltering as Tino's smirk grew even further.

"Miss. B10."

Lukas threw his head back with a groan, his voice strained as he said "Hit". The game ended the next round with the Finn once again finding their ship. With their final ship sunk, Lukas sighed, sliding his chair out and getting himself a mug of milk to drink. He slumped with his back against the counter, drinking the cold beverage. Letting out a sigh, he turned on the screen of his phone, checking the time. Tino walked over to him, placing a hand on top of his. He noted that the others had left the room, leaving the two to themselves.

"He'll call soon," he smiled, giving him a reassuring squeeze, "Why wouldn't he after all?" Lukas nodded, not a single reply leaving his thin, pursed lips.

Just as he let out a short breath, the phone vibrated on the counter, making the both of them jump. Mathias' contact flashed on the screen, the photo Lukas had taken of him a few summers back of him grinning so wide that his eyes were shut, a peace sign held up to his face.

He answered the call almost too fast, some of his bangs falling over his eye. He tucked them behind his ear again.

"Hello?" He froze. Sniffling sounded from the other side, causing his muscles to tense up. "M-Mathias?" There was a short silence other than crying and distressed sounds of the other passengers before Mathias spoke words Lukas didn't want to hear.

"I'm calling to say goodbye."

His heart stopped, a cold feeling spreading to his limbs from his chest which felt like an empty, frozen abyss. He wanted to put down the phone, to run, to not listen. He couldn't breathe.

"W-what?" he stammered, gripping tight to the counter surface, "Mathias, what's happening?"

"The plane it's..." he heard the man chuckle sadly on the other side; not loud and full of life like the laughter Lukas knew which made his heart flutter, but a melancholic sound. He put the phone on loudspeaker, placing it on the ground beside him as he sat down, hands covering his ears, the fear of what came next consuming him and all his senses. Wet warmth trailed sadly down his cheek.

"It's crashing Lukas. I... I don't know if I'll make it."

It was like drowning. He might as well have been. His lungs were giving in, pins and needles spreading through his body, painfully stabbing him, his breath refusing to come. He felt trapped, wishing time would stop around him. But life isn't that simple.

"I... I need you to know something," Mathias continued, his own voice sounding like he was silently crying, hitching every few syllables, muffled with tears. "You listening?"

"Yeah..." Lukas whispered. Tino sat down beside him, tears streaming down his face like waterfalls. "I'm listening."

"You know the myth that when you're about to die you see your whole life flash before your eyes?" He took a breath before continuing, a young child screaming somewhere in the distance. "It's true. It's painfully, heartbreakingly true. And do you know what I saw?"

Lukas remained silent, his hands clamping tighter against his ears in vain, the sounds from his phone's speakers as loud as a scream in the middle of a December night. His shoulders shook against his will, a terrible scream stifled in his throat.

"I saw _you, _Lukas. It was always you. I'm so grateful I got to meet you, to become friends with you and..."

He didn't want to hear anymore but he felt like every last nerve in his body had been disabled, unable to move, feeling so hopeless, so empty.

"I love you Lukas." Mathias' breathing faltered as he said it, his voice weak. "I have to go. I'm sorry."

"Mathias I-" The call died, the connection failing. Lukas stared at the phone, wide-eyed, too many feelings filling his chest, threatening to overflow. And they did. One by one the tears began to fall down his face as he buried it in his hands, the sobs loud.

You don't know what you have until you've lost it.

* * *

_So I'm sorry. So so sorry._


	13. Chapter 13

The pain was so great that it wasn't. He felt empty, half there, half not. It felt like the world was in slow motion and in fast forward all at once. Fire and rain could have been battling around him and it wouldn't have made a difference to him. There was nothing left.

Like something missing inside him.

In the beginning, he cried, unable to speak not only because he choked whenever he spoke on tears but also because he felt physically unable to, like the flame inside him that represented his life force had been put out.

It didn't help that everything reminded him of _him_. It was a curse, a terrible dark magic. The sight of the other boys was no better. Tino had wept so loud Emil had heard, curiously wheeling himself in to see the two crying together, neither able to explain their sadness, until Lukas managed to mumble "he's dead" in a husky voice, more to himself than to his brother who clenched his hands in tight fists on the arm rests of the wheelchair.

Still crying, Tino didn't meet their eyes, running out of the room with his hands gripped to his phone. He was probably going to relay the news to Berwald, leaving the two brothers alone in the kitchen, neither saying a word, the silence painful. He had loved the rare times it was silent, he had thought, but at that moment he realised how much he would have paid, what he would have done, to fill the quiet with that laughter that was missing.

Slowly, Emil rolled closer to him, less than gracefully slipping out of the chair to sit by him, laying his head on Lukas' shoulder for comfort. Normally Lukas would have been more than happy to offer him this, to be this close to him, but this one time he didn't even budge, didn't move a muscle, didn't speak. He just sat staring at his pale, intertwined hands, sight blurred.

Tino came back, Érik following behind him, trying to stay calm, being their guardian and anchor, but tears fell down the sides of his face in stray streams. Tino sat down next to Lukas, burying his face in his shoulder. The oldest man surrounded the three teenagers in his embrace, fingers tight on Tino's shoulders, resting his chin on Emil's head.

Lukas wasn't quite sure how long they had stayed like that, the four of them sharing warmth and comfort, weeping. At some point, all the tears became silent. He wasn't sure when, having zoned out.

"Is...Is there any chance he's still alive?" Emil whispered, breaking the horrible silence, voice wavering, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer. His head was still on Lukas' shoulder and instinctively Lukas stroked his silver locks.

Érik gasped for breath. "Yes," he paused, unsurely, "Yes there is. There's always hope."

The Norwegian closed his eyes. Mathias could be alive, he could be well... But what if he wasn't? His breath hitched in his throat. Movement could be felt beside him as Érik got up. He seemed to be biting his bottom lip and Lukas couldn't blame him, not now.

"How about we watch a movie, take our minds off it?" He suggested, looking at the boys who were still tangled among themselves on the floor. A small part of Lukas felt offended by the suggestion, a small part that seemed to be saying _"How can he think of anything else at a time like this"_. But he nodded; nothing could be done. He shifted and the others moved away from him to let him get up.

He picked Emil up as best as he could, getting ready to set him down in his wheelchair, however first letting him rest against his chest some more, lying limp in Lukas' bridal style hold on him. His brother's shoulders shook, arms wrapped around his shoulders. He seemed to want to say something, hesitating. His brother stroked his hair soothingly even though he felt like a tornado raged inside him. After a few moments, Emil breathed,

"I never let him help me when he offered." Regret rang as clear as a bell in his voice muffled in his older brother's shirt, making his heart wrench.

He set him down, wheeling him over to the living room, passing a mirror in the corridor. He slowed down, seeing his reflection, his eyes duller than he remembered, face red, a glint in his hair. Saying he'd join them in a few moments, he ran upstairs, two steps at a time, bursting into his room.

He yanked the hairpin, pulling it out of his hair with a yelp as some strands of fair hair tugged out with it. He rubbed the sore spot on the side of his head subconsciously, eyes solely on the pin, angry tears building up in their corners.

His fingers tightened around the object, the metal cold on his skin. "It's not fair," he whispered, the tightness in his chest tighter than anything he'd ever felt. It felt like a tsunami, getting closer and closer to him, about to swallow him whole.

Suddenly, he threw the pin, and it hit the wall, leaving a dent, landing on the bed covers. After staring at it for another few moments, his legs gave in, and he fell onto his knees, feeble on the floor. He covered his face, once more wet, feeling like a lost child.

He felt arms wrap around him, pulling his head back against a boy's chest. He nuzzled into Tino's shirt, soaking it, letting it all out. The boy hugged his shoulders tightly, caressing his hair with the back of his hand, shushing him softly, saying that it was all right.

"It's not fair, Tino," Lukas mumbled, and Tino nodded silently. "And..."

"And?"

Lukas took a shaky breath, hiding his face further in the boy's chest. "...and I never told him I loved him too."

Saying it out loud, he felt like some weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Tino said nothing, continuing to stroke his hair, thinking. He jumped up suddenly, startling Lukas.

"Give me a minute!" he exclaimed, rushing out of the room and almost slipping, coming back with a white ball of fur in his arms. The Norwegian couldn't help himself but chuckle; the Maltese ran out of the Finn's arms straight at him, covering him in wet doggy kisses which, Lukas had to admit, tickled. He stroked Hana, a small smile on his lips at the small dog. Tino sat down beside him, smiling sadly, his eyes still red from before, giving the pup affection too.

"Thanks, Tino."

"It's no problem Lukas. Really." Tino looked at him, and the Norwegian could see he was holding himself back from crying any more, whether it was for his own sake or Lukas' he didn't know.

With a sigh, he placed Hana on Tino's lap, pulling his knees to his chest. "Did you tell Ber?"

Hesitantly, the Finn nodded. "He wouldn't admit it but... I could tell how big a shock it was. He knew Mathias the longest and..." he trailed off, unsure of either what more to say or whether he could say it without crying. Lukas nodded, running a hand down his face. "What are you gonna do now?"

The question was so out of the blue that Lukas furrowed his brows in confusion, his face sticky. He voiced his confusion, unsure what to make of the boy's question. He just sighed in reply, pausing for a moment.

"Ber is going to meet up with his family in Sweden," Tino explained, nodding to himself, looking at the wall. "I... I'm trying to get in contact with my mum too."

The Norwegian rested his head against the hard edge of the bed frame, focusing on the ceiling lamp directly above him. A part of him wished it would fall straight on top of him before he chased the thought away. Mathias wouldn't want him to think that way, never. And yet...

"I might get in touch with my mum too," he muttered, his voice lacking confidence. "Last I heard from her was six years ago."

"A lot can change in six years," Tino pointed out.

The words acted as a trigger, making him flinch. He remembered that late spring day when the letter arrived, remembered how he had felt angry, isolated and alone. Then Mathias came along, pushing him out of his comfort zone. His heart throbbed.

"Yeah... It can."

* * *

He had asked for Emil to help him word the letter, both struggling for things to say. Lukas remembered their mother far clearer than his sibling, but even to him she was more a dream than a real person.

Érik had dug up some information on her whereabouts and had found she lived in their old home now, almost as if she had never left. A pang of guilt struck the boys, guilt and pity. Lukas shoved it aside, signing the bottom and handing the pen to Emil to do the same.

It was short, awkward, but it was a start. He let Emil seal the envelope while he himself put on the stamps, writing out the address on the front. The writing was messy, his hand shaking wildly, uncontrollable.

"Let's go send it," Emil urged, probably as weary of the house as he was, finding that everything reminded him of Mathias. Lukas agreed, and they made their way to the little post box on the end of the street, the older wheeling the younger along at a slow pace, trying to delay their return.

"Érik's trying to reach him," Emil said, filling the silence. Lukas didn't reply but stayed attentive. "Trying to find out if there were any survivors." He shifted, looking back at him. "Do you think he's alive?"

"I don't dare hope."

"Yes you do. Hope's all that's keeping you going right now."

He blinked a few times, mauling the information over in his head. In the end he decided to remain silent. Emil sat back properly again, looking forward, the letter creasing in his grasp.

Lukas replied, "I don't hope. He's alive. I know he is. He's too stupid to die even if he was killed." Emil laughed at that, shaking his head. "And I'll wait for him even if it takes the rest of my life. I'll see him again. _We'll _see him again. All of us, together."

Emil agreed, posting the letter, and they made their way back in silence, everything to be said said. Lukas wasn't sure where his sudden burst of confidence had come from, but it lifted his spirits.

Hope is the one thing which keeps us sane. It keeps us human.

* * *

_This chapter is so bad I am so sorry. _

_I had free time so this happened. I don't really think it came out quite how I wanted it but it's the best I could make it so enjoy!_


	14. Chapter 14

But hope can also drive you insane.

It had been over a year, and Lukas was closer to being 18 than he was to 17, and not a sign of the man in all that time. They searched, all of them did for a single sign, any detail that could prove he was okay; that he was alive.

Spring had come late that year. It was early May, and the flowers were only now beginning to fully bloom. Clovers largely populated the lawn, at which Lukas laughed humorlessly. The words the florist had spoken those years ago invaded his mind, impossible to repress - "_the heather and the clover complement each other at the end of the day_". The memory made him sour, but not as much as the other's confusion at the time. The Dane had not understood the hints but Lukas didn't miss them, couldn't have missed them. A sharp stabbing pain like he had been impaled run through his chest, earning no response. He was used to it.

Sometime in late autumn all his optimism he had mustered up fell like a stone to the bottom of a deep lake, falling painfully slowly. Believing that he was alive was tough from the beginning, doubt always creeping in the crude shadows, whispering unnerving things in his ear.

They hadn't been able to dismantle his room. That would be too final. Lukas hadn't thought himself as sentimental, and yet he wasn't so sure any longer; the barrette had been hidden in an old mint box he had found, placed deeply in the wardrobe along with the violin. Out of reach, and furthermore out of sight. It took months for him to gather the courage to open the door to his room, the light filtering in onto the wooden floorboards. The room was surprisingly clean, he had thought, noting Érik probably cleaned the room til it shone.

The saddest part was it didn't feel like his room anymore. All his clothes were gone rather than sprawled out in piles on the floor, and the bed sheets were done up neatly rather than lazily and in an unkempt way. All the little trinkets were gone from the shelves and desk, creating an empty, desolate feeling. Slowly, he went to sit on the bed, falling back into the pillow, curling up. _It still smells like him_, he thought, clenching onto the pillow case like his life depended on it. He knew Emil slept in there sometimes, comforted by the room and the smell of the blonde who had left them. If Lukas closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that he was just in another room, not wherever he was now. A lonely tear rolled down his face, dripping from his chin onto the covers.

With a sigh, he dragged himself up. He found no comfort in the room, only an overwhelming sadness that he couldn't control or take. His fingers traveled subconsciously to his forearm, rubbing it gently over the skin as he looked around the room a final time, closing the door with a gentle click.

In the room next door, he could hear through the slightly ajar door a few voices and the familiar buzz of a laptop; Tino had saved up enough over the time to buy a second-hand one for himself. As a rule of thumb he facecamd with Berwald every few days, if not everyday. Ever since the accident, the Finn had become increasingly anxious about his boyfriend over in Sweden, freaking out non-stop whenever he flew home or back to Stockholm, as could be expected. Through the gap in the door the Norwegian could see Berwald's face on the screen, joined by a ginger boy with a paint smudge on his cheek. Berwald looked mildly unamused with the boy's antics but Tino chuckled happily in the dimness of his room.

He walked outside into the front garden. His younger brother sat lazily in his wheelchair, his phone practically glued to his hands. He was gaining more and more friends these days, Lukas noted. There was a girl related to Francis in some way called Michelle he spent time with, as well as the sister to a particularly irritable Swiss boy he had shared a few classes with called Lilli. And obviously there was Leon, who always took care of him to the Icelander's embarrassment. Lukas ruffled his hair on his way past, Emil's hand instinctively raising to protect himself, a pout and a frown painted on his features. Lukas just smiled lightly at him, rolling his sleeves down subconsciously after noting they had been rolled up. He grabbed the empty laundry basket lying at the foot of the house, before making his way though the gate to the backyard, oblivious to Emil's concerned look as he left.

He decided to take his mind off everything, and just do his chores and concentrate on anything but the lack of warmth and joy in the house. He pulled the washing now dry from the long day in the mild sun into the basket, taking his time to do things. There was no rush after all.

He could hear the newest letter from their mother crinkling in his pocket as he moved. She was getting better, and her words sounded just like he remembered her before their father's death. She heard voices, which worried him, but she said she was learning to cope with them. She had asked them to visit her, and he was unsure how to reply. The child in him hadn't completely forgiven her, even though he now knew it was more than met his at the time completely innocent eye.

He heard a car pull up in the drive way. He figured it was Érik, from the sound of his voice as he spoke to Emil, although he spoke softly and Lukas couldn't make out a word of it. He shrugged half-halfheartedly to himself, deciding to use the back door to enter with the washing since it made no difference and he didn't feel like talking to Érik right now; he reminded him too much of Mathias. He sighed entering the house, stopping in his tracks as he heard a startled shout outside. The voice was Emil's.

He rushed out through the door, the basket uncomfortably positioned under his arm, eyes on Emil. His brother's face was deathly pale, his violet eyes staring into the distance in disbelief.

"Emil what's..." He was cut off by his brother tugging at his sleeve, a long, slim finger pointing in front of him soundlessly. He looked in the direction of the finger.

The basket fell onto the ground with a loud bang, clothes falling out from the sides. His hands trembled, his heart beat accelerating. Tears welled up in his eyes and he forgot how to breathe. Because in front of him stood a man he knew better than himself.

The man talking to Érik was Mathias Køhler.

* * *

He watched Érik and Mathias speak to each other in Danish, too shell shocked to say anything or do anything other than stare at the other. When he dropped the washing, Mathias' eyes flickered to him for only a second, seeming startled. They were his eyes but they felt.. different. Emptier almost. Not in a lack of emotion sort of way but in a way he couldn't explain.

But what hurt the most was his lack of a response upon seeing him. Lukas' chest was fit to burst, and he couldn't move, his face red and eyes watering. And with Mathias there was... well, _nothing._

"Lukas," Emil whispered, not moving his eyes away from the man, his own cheeks stained by tears that had silently traversed across his smooth cheeks. "Something feels wrong." Lukas could only nod. Something did feel wrong to the point he felt like retching. He caught Mathias' eyes flick to him once more, a light smile on the Dane's lips in his direction, but it wasn't the same as the smile he treasured, the one he knew. He couldn't force his face to reciprocate the expression, leaving it an emotionless blank.

Érik turned around then, motioning for Mathias to follow him which he did. "Mathias," he said as they got to the front door, "Meet Lukas and Emil."

Lukas had never been impaled slowly and painfully with a javelin but he imagined it felt a bit like how he felt. He felt his heart plummet, shattering almost like it did when he had first lost him. He and Emil looked at Érik in desperation and confusion. He just smiled sadly as an answer. Mathias put out a hand for Lukas to shake with a polite smile.

"It's nice to meet you," he said. Lukas hesitated before reaching out and shaking it, not saying a word. His hand felt just like it had all that time ago. He looked and felt and even smelt like Mathias but it just _wasn't him. _

Mathias let go and bent down slightly to attempt to shake Emil's hand, the teenager shaking his head and not complying, hence why Mathias straightened up and dropped his arm again.

"I... suppose we were close once," Mathias whispered. Lukas laughed quietly, making the other turn in his direction.

"Yeah, you could say that."

It took all his willpower to say that without crying cry. Even more to not throw himself into Mathias' arms. To not embrace him tightly and sob into his shoulder, into that sweater that would smell like him, under which his chest would rise and fall gently and he would be able to hear his heart beating gently. Érik patted Mathias' shoulder and went inside with a monotonous expression on, probably to find Tino.

Mathias furrowed his brows. "From what Éri- eh, dad said we were like brothers?"

Lukas took a shaky breath, nodding slowly. Mathias shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry," he breathed. He smiled at him, but his eyes expressed deep melancholy. It didn't suit him.

At that moment, Tino peeked through the door, freezing up, tears cascading down his round almost child-like face in a split second. He ran up to Mathias, who stiffened, wrapping his arms around his torso, the taller patting him gently on the back, unsure what to do. Looking away, Lukas pulled the younger boy away, unable to look at his confused gaze which he directed first at him, then at Mathias.

"Amnesia," Mathias whispered, "I have amnesia."

* * *

_W EL P. Okay this took far longer than expected to get to writing I'm so sorry. But hey Mathias is back ahha love me. Please. _


	15. Chapter 15

The man looked around his new-old room, sending a grateful smile to his father who stood in the doorway, his eyebrows knitted. There was no spark in Mathias' eyes at the sight of the room, or any of the furniture in it. On the way there he had paused in front of a photo frame with their whole family, melancholy playing on his features.

Lukas carried Emil up the stairs with Tino carrying his wheelchair after them, neither of the younger two able to take their eyes off the Dane inspecting the house. Lukas, on the other hand, couldn't meet his eyes for a second longer. The pain that struck him every time he saw him was unbearable.

Mathias sat down on the bed, the springs creaking under his weight. He stayed in silence for another few moments, looking around one last time, as though hoping he missed something that could trigger his memory but to no greater avail. He shook his head, running a hand down his face.

"Nothing," he stated with a shrug. Érik took a shaky breath, nodding.

"Alright," he replied, walking up to his son and putting a hand on his shoulder, causing him to look up. "Take your time." Mathias nodded, once more looking at the floor. The oldest man patted him on the back, then, turning away from his son with a pained expression, strode out, down the steps and out the front door with a slam. Lukas more than expected the sound of the car engine to start.

Mathias glanced at the remaining family members from the corner of his eye. Emil decided to wheel himself over to his room, and Tino, after a few false starts and indecisive glances in Mathias' direction, ran to his room too. Lukas couldn't blame them, and he knew Mathias couldn't either. It was all he could do from running away from what was right in front of him himself. Shuddering, he entered the room slowly, falling onto the bed next to Mathias.

"Lukas, right?" Lukas nodded, not being able to look at him. Mathias ran a hand through his messy hair which, Lukas noted, was slightly longer than the last time he saw him. "There's nothing familiar," he said with a shrug, "There's photos of me, _us_, and yet..." He smiled then, a white-toothed grin almost like those from long ago. Almost. It just didn't reach his eyes. "Don't worry, I'll get there."

After taking a shaky breath, Lukas managed a reply. "But what if you don't? What if you never remember? What then?"

Mathias pouted. "Are you always such a pessimist?" He leant with his back against the wall, azure eyes glued to the ceiling. "There's no knowing until I try, right? Even if it takes a lifetime, it won't stop me trying. I don't want my first memory to be of a hospital room filled with doctors chattering in Danish among themselves, every face one I don't recognise." He turned to Lukas then, with a lop-sided smile. "I want to feel like I've got a home."

Lukas rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and falling back against the wall with him. "At least you're as optimistic as ever."

"We seem like two opposite sides of a coin, you and I," Mathias stated, checking the younger's face, "You sure we were friends?" Lukas felt his heart speed up in his chest, and prayed that his face didn't go red as those words played over and over in his head;_ '__I love you Lukas.'_

"Positive."

The Dane, satisfied with the answer, grinned again. "Hey, at least we get to meet each other all over again. You've stopped wearing that pin from the photos," he pointed out, to which Lukas reacted by reflexively touching the side of his head where there was a lack of the metal clip. He nodded, and Mathias smiled at him again. His smile, however, faltered, falling into a look of confusion and sorrow. Lukas followed his line of sight down to his own arms. His eyes widened as he pulled his sleeves down abruptly, his lips pursed tightly.

"Did you..." Lukas cut him off.

"It's none of your business Mathias." The Dane's face portrayed a look of pain like Lukas had just gravely wounded him with his sharp tongue. After a short silence, he asked,

"Was it... was it because of me?"

He hesitated, slumping down even lower against the wall, fingers gripping the hems of his sleeves tightly to keep them from rolling up. At last he whispered quietly the dreaded reply.

"Yes."

He watched the line of Mathias' shoulders fall, his eyes on his knitted hands, one of his thumbs running gently over the other. He swore quietly under his breath, hiding his face in his hands. The sight of him that way made Lukas' chest hurt, a dull, throbbing pain, as cold as ice.

"I'm sorry," Mathias choked out, his voice husky. Lukas frowned, sitting up to look at him better, unsurely laying a hand on his upper back, drawing circles.

"It wasn't your fault though. Not really." The older blond wiped his eyes with his forearm, the area under his eyes red. He looked at him with a sad smile, nodding lightly. "Plus, it's in the past now."

"Yeah, you're probably right," he laughed gently, almost to himself, "Guess we were close then, huh."

_Yeah,_ Lukas thought, _more than you'd ever guess._

* * *

A week had passed since Mathias came back from the dead. But it still wasn't their Mathias.

It was strange, Lukas thought, how he sounded and looked and acted just like him but felt like an impostor.

Berwald hadn't helped trigger anything in Mathias either. They had called him the next day to notify him, and the Swede seemed more than relieved until he heard of the problem. While his face masked everything he felt while the new Mathias spoke with him, everyone knew he was conflicted and disheartened. It showed in his eyes.

The week had given him an awful sense of deja vu. It was almost like Mathias had been reverted to his child self again in the way that he was spending time with all of them. In other ways he was much the same as he was over a year ago, such as drinking away his problems. He didn't get drunk but Lukas saw the 19 year old with a bottle of beer in his hand every single one of those nights. It helped him think, he said, just like he had back when he first started drinking the stuff. Lukas severely doubted that though.

Everyone was on edge, Lukas especially. He had mourned Mathias' death, and yet there he was, in the flesh. It was like a dream and a nightmare; he was revived but a part was missing.

He rubbed his arm, wincing lightly, remembering. It was a sick joke that life was playing on him. Emil gets hit by a car, he wakes up from a coma paralysed. Mathias is in a plane crash and tells him he loves him, and comes back not even knowing his name.

He lay back in his bed, with no motivation to get up as it was, and a lack of coffee wasn't helping. It would mean facing the day, facing Mathias, and he wasn't sure he had the strength to look at his face one more time without crying.

He curled up in a ball, burying his face in the soft pillow, laying awake with his eyes closed, trying to silence his ever racing thoughts about Mathias, and think about something else. He had exams starting in a few days, as did Emil and Tino. None of them needed this right now. Frowning, he opened one eye, checking the time.

He groaned, dragging himself up, rubbing his eyes. It was nearing noon, and if he didn't wake up himself someone else would do it for him. He got dressed in the first clothes he saw which lay in a folded pile at the foot of his bed, before brushing his messy hair, using his phone as a mirror.

He paused, staring into his reflection, which thoughtfully looked back at him. The hair at the side of his face covered his ear. It made him look different than when he had worn the barrette given to him by Mathias on the same day he discovered the violin...

It was like a light bulb moment. His eyes flashed to the wardrobe, his heart hammering in his chest. He took a few weary steps before opening the large doors. Inside, just as he remembered it, lay the instrument, with the mint box by its side. Slowly, he touched the wood, a surge of what he could only describe as a comforting warmth filled his chest. Quickly, he opened the box, the pin glinting in the late morning light. He clipped it into his hair, its weight familiar and welcome.

There was no hesitation anymore. Mathias had said himself he was trying, and he wasn't about to sit around twiddling his thumbs. He had an idea.

He just hoped it would work.

* * *

_Shorter chapter is shorter. Not the shortest I've written though. We're almost at the end of the story. What would you guys say to a spin off if I have the motivation? :')_


	16. Chapter 16

His fingers trailed down the oaken banister as he skipped steps, almost slipping on the last few, barely clinging on for his balance. He refused to slow down; he was determined to see his plan through to the end, whether sweet or bitter. He could feel the clip, tight and heavy at the side of his head. He had lost all hope and when he had reached the bottom, lying on his back on the bed of the deep pool he had fallen into and was unable to swim out of, some part of the memories attached to the metal pin, some sort of sentimental value, grasped his wrist and dragged him up, gasping for air.

He skidded on the corridor floor in his hurry, grasping the door frame and swinging himself in, determination set in his dark eyes, a light, the first light in a while, reflected in them, almost like a lone star.

Mathias was sitting in one of the arm chairs, head rested on the palm of his hand propped up on one of the arm rests. The tv was on, buzzing softly in the background, however, even though his eyes were on the screen, he was not watching it, barely staring at the moving images blankly, lost in thought. His face was scrunched up in a frown, which disappeared as his eyes flicked to Lukas, a smile on his lips which didn't reach his eyes.

"You're wearing the clip."

Lukas felt his heart race dangerously in his chest, his hand subconsciously reaching up, touching the cool metal. He nodded momentarily, before dropping his arm, eyes on Mathias' face, taking in his features: the shape of his jaw; big, wide sky-blue eyes; freckles sprinkled around his face, adorning it. He took a deep breath, taking a few steps forward. His face was higher than the Dane's, making the older of the two tilt his head up to look at him, not dropping that fake, discomforting smile.

Wordlessly, Lukas took his hand, at which the Dane cocked a brow, inquisitive. He pulled him up, silent, not saying a word. He led him outside, leaving the backdoor ajar as they walked through. He felt Mathias' gaze on the back of his head as they entered their miniature forest, pulling him down onto the soft grass, slightly damp with dew. He looked at the other's face then, meeting his confused eyes with his own, hopeful ones. Mathias broke the gaze first, looking up at the crowns of the trees then back in the direction of the house, his head gently turning back to the form sitting beside him. A melody made up of words he more or less understood escaped the other's pale lips, dark blue eyes closed, pale lashes leaving shadows on his cheeks.

La dagen få sin hvile nå  
Og natten vil våke for den  
Nocturne

Selv mørket må en gang forgå  
Så natten kan føde en dag

He finished his song, eyes once more fluttering open, resting gently on the other's face, an expression of bewilderment embellished on it. He parted his lips in a sigh, pulling back a strand of hair that had gotten loose from the hairpin's grip.

He stood up again, pulling Mathias up with him, this time leading him up the stairs and into his room. The man was confused to the point he almost voiced his uncertainty, but instead sat down on the bed, watching him with a pitiful gaze, almost as if the Norwegian had gone insane.

He himself however reached into the wardrobe, taking out the old instrument, blowing a layer of dust off the wood and tuning it, cringing at how badly out of tune it was. Satisfied, he sat beside him, resting his chin on the chinrest, hand immediately remembering how to hold the bow. He played, Mathias' gentle eyes tracing each movement he made, a dolorous expression again upon his features.

He kissed the wood before laying it in his lap, any walls he had had up toppled, lips quivering, fighting the tears that had been left unshed.

"Do you... do you remember?" He asked, his voice weak, faltering.

Mathias took an unsteady breath, shaking his head. "No," he whispered, "I don't."

The wet warmth fell softly, soundlessly down his face, reaching his pale lips, curled up at the corners in a sad, hopeless smile. He fell back, placing the violin on the bedding beside him, covering his eyes with his arm, that smile quaking.

"I.. I thought," he chocked, taking a deep intake of breath, "That I could trigger your memory. That if I could remind you maybe..." he trailed off, his chest heaving as more tears fell, eyes still covered, unable to see the other, the smile fully gone, choked sobs escaping his lips. He could feel movement beside him and looked out from his behind his shield for a second, his eyes met by Mathias' own, now lying on the mattress beside him, shadowed by his furrowed brow.

"You care so much," he whispered, keeping the gaze, "For me. Why?" The last part was more to himself but Lukas still answered it, his reply a muffle that he could not register. He voiced his confusion, at which Lukas dropped his arm, looking straight at him with reddened eyes, tears streaked down his features.

"Because I _love_ you. I love you and it hurts, so, so much," he choked, screwing up his face, breathing in deeply once more, vaguely aware of the stifled Dane beside him, looking at him wide-eyed, lips gaping. He blinked a few times, sitting up with a little delayed reaction after Lukas had done so, the Norwegian rubbing his face with the sleeves of his sweater, burying his face in them.

Nothing moved for a few seconds, not the wind outside, not one of the two who sat on the bed that day in mid-May. Then, slowly, Lukas felt arms snake their way around his waist, pulling him back, lips tracing the nape of his neck. He could feel the breath on his skin, and the heart beating behind him, both trembly much like his own. He dared glance back, his vision mildly obscured by remaining tears but he knew what he saw. His gut wrenched, his heart fluttered.

Lukas' eyes met his, saw the shine in them joint with fresh tears now beginning to fall, saw the crinkles on his forehead and in the corners of his eyes, both attributes to that beautiful smile filling his lips that took his breath away.

Mathias closed his eyes, resting his forehead on Lukas' back, releasing a long sigh, never releasing his hold on the other, as if he were some dream that he did not wish to wake up from, and, in turn, Lukas' hands clasped around his, scared to blink in case that if he did he himself would discover this was just a fantasy.

"Do you mean it," Mathias asked softly, barely above a whisper.

He nodded, replying with equal gentleness. "I do."

Mathias shifted, releasing his grip to allow Lukas to turn around and look at him, both lost for words. They didn't need to say anything else.

Lukas collapsed onto him, head resting in the crook of his neck where he could hear his heart, racing in time to his own. They stayed in silence, with Mathias stroking his hair before he broke it again.

"You remember."

"Yeah," he spoke softly, "I do." He looked down at Lukas arms then, carefully rolling up the sleeve of one and caressing the scarred skin with his thumb, melancholic.

"Sadness doesn't suit you," Lukas said, eyes on the motion. He glanced up, smiling softly, earning a smile back.

"I'm sorry. I'd have come back sooner, if I-"

Lukas never found out what would have made him come back sooner for in that moment, without a second thought, he jerked forward, meeting his lips with his own, wet from crying, Mathias stiffening for the shortest of moments, before relaxing, pulling Lukas closer as the Norwegian wrapped his arms around his neck, entwining his fingers with his messy blonde hair.

They parted for air, their noses touching, looking into each other's eyes like it was the first time, and, in a sense, it was. Mathias' white-toothed, lop-sided smile grew and Lukas' more timid smile followed in tow.

"About time, right?" Mathias said in the same manner as when they had watched their best friends first become a couple.

"Yeah," he whispered in reply, closing his eyes. "About time."

* * *

_So. Final chapter. This spent over a year in the making and the epilogue is still to come but the main plot is finished. My boyfriend now internally hates me. Worth it. _

_Leave your reviews I greatly appreciate every one that I receive ~_


	17. Epilogue

Light filtered through the leaves of the canopy, landing softly on the dew covered grass and skin in dimmed spots, scattered around. It was cool, and wisps of wind whistled as they raced between branches, grazing cheeks as they flew past.

They had gone downstairs, slowly, the Dane's hand gripping him in comfort, and he squeezed it gently every once in a while, never even for a second letting go as they walked into the living room area, where the rest of their family were seated, talking in whispers, stopping only to look up at the two entering men, interest and hope dancing in their eyes.

Smiles brightened the room as they joined them, the five speaking together now in louder tones, their voices filling the room in joyous cheers and cries. His father hugged him tightly, burying his face, now creased with many lines of old age and past worry, into his son's shoulder, weeping gently, as tears rolled down his son's cheeks too, down and off his chin, dripping softly onto his father's shirt, leaving wet marks, hands gripping tightly onto each other. The younger smiled a peaceful smile.

The youngest in the room clasped his hands against his mouth, as if to stop his own emotions from spilling out, to no avail, relieved tears falling as he clung onto Mathias, allowing him to pick him up from his wheelchair, embracing him with more force than he had ever before, his voice raspy from crying as he whispered words of disbelief and consolation over and over quietly to himself.

The Finn too cried, louder than the rest put together, wrapping Mathias in an embrace that left him breathless with how tight it was. He cried about how he needed to tell Berwald the good news as soon as he could, sobbing with joy.

Having embraced them all, they sat down, talking for what felt like hours and hours, Tino bringing his laptop down, almost slipping on the stairs as he went to bring Berwald to them. Smiles lit up their features, every single last person's there; even Berwald smiled gently as they talked.

And now, a few days later, Lukas and Mathias sat alone in the mid-May afternoon, soaking in the first rays that announced the arrival of summer, the coldness of spring still hanging in the air. A brace of ducks flew overhead, and a bumblebee buzzed around the newly sprouted clovers. Heather grew along the outskirts of the garden, swaying softly. Lukas' head rested on Mathias' shoulder, his finger drawing circles in the other's thigh as Mathias leaned back against a tree trunk, a hand resting on Lukas' waist, holding him close, eyes resting on him gently. They had stayed like this in peaceful silence for a while, comforted in each other's presence, neither feeling it was necessary to break it.

After a while, Lukas pulled back, looking Mathias in the eyes, scanning his features from the creases at his eyes from his constant smiles to the freckles on his nose. He wondered quietly how many of them he had, deciding he'd have to count them one day. Mathias smiled at him as though he could read his mind and the idea of how sappy that was amused him.

Their gaze relayed all unspoken words, words of "I missed you" and "Don't go", and other words to the same effect, some of which even they themselves didn't know how to express.

Finally, it was Mathias who broke the silence, taking out a small ring box from his coat pocket, at the sight of which Lukas' eyes widened. Mathias laughed.

"It's not what you think it is. I'm not proposing to you," he pulled open the box lid, displaying a pair of silver rings, one wider than the other. Mathias pulled the smaller one out, sliding it onto Lukas' hand. "They're promise rings," he explained. "If you check inside, I got engravings. They're not much; I got them rushed since I wanted them ready for today." He got out the other one, placing it in Lukas' palm to read the inscription on the inside. The blond laughed, shaking his head.

"'About time, right?'" he read the inscription in Mathias' ring, looking up at him, continually shaking his head, before sliding the matching ring onto the other's finger. He lay his head on his shoulder once more, admiring the ring on his finger quietly. Then he realised.

"You said you wanted them done for today," he said, looking up at him, "What's today?"

"The most important day of the year," Mathias grinned lop-lopsidedly, chuckling, "It's your birthday."

Lukas looked down at the ring again, the small smile on his lips growing slowly once more. "You didn't have to, you dolt," he teased rolling his eyes, but pecked his cheek. "Thank you."

* * *

_And that's it. A year and a half later and it's finished. I can't believe I've come this far with this story. Genuinely can't. Thank you to everyone who stayed this long to read this I appreciate it so so much! c: Take care you guys, I hope this story was worth the wait._


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